Haunted Memories
by bjnboy
Summary: When Douglas lands a job as the night guard at the soon-to-be-open Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction, he gets a lot more than he bargained for when relics from the old pizza chain and a freed evil begin to awaken memories of a dark past long buried. But some things should be left forgotten...
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

 **For storytelling purposes, some things have been changed slightly around in the FNAF timeline and the lore, and let's just say that Springtrap/Purple Guy will be a much more sinister character than he was in the games.**

 **Here goes**!

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

Inside the still space, there was darkness and quiet.

And in this blanketed void: an abomination awoke.

Forged by evil and circumstance.

A force.

It should not have been.

A mangled body of metal and flesh. A tortured and twisted mind. The force endured and burned with only one thought.

 _Escape._

Deep within its hidden head, behind glowing eyes, a mind, a thought, clawed itself from captive slumber.

 _They did this to me..._

 _Those little brats._

 _It was not supposed to happen like this!_

 _I want to feel blood in my hands again...I want to kill!_

The force's heart, hardened with petrifaction and sickened with blackness, quivered slightly when the memory of _him_ rose from the depths of the swirling abyss.

 _Little Dougie._

 _So sweet... So innocent..._

 _Mine._

A noise sounded outside the still space.

It knew. It knew this time it would be free.

Fate smiled upon it, and it smiled back. It always smiled.

 _I will find you, Little Dougie..._

 _I will_ always _come back for you._

 _Blood._

 _I want to kill!_

* * *

 **Feel free to review or ask any questions if you wish. I do like writing long stories, but don't let the length intimidate you; your feedback will be invaluable to me. :-)**


	2. The Search Begins

**The Search Begins**

* * *

 **August 17, 2013 – 9:14 PM – Harrisburg, Pennsylvania – Outside Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

The late summer night was humid and muggy when the black GMC Savana 2500 pulled up into the abandoned, expansive parking lot. A light drizzle was covering the surrounding environment in a fine layer of wetness that only added to the heat of the night.

The asphalt was cracked in many places with weeds poking their colourful heads defiantly through their beds of blackish-gray and faded yellow paint. It was to be expected that nature would one day reclaim what was hers. Considering that the place had been neglected for twenty years, it came as no surprise to the trio who disembarked from their vehicle and stood before their destination – an abandoned pizzeria.

"Well, here we are guys." announced Neil Cave, the leader of the small group, as he surveyed the property with his flashlight. He pointed the yellowish beam up at the unlit orange and black sign with sparkly stars and colourful cartoonish versions of the company's mascots; the words became clearer to him as he squinted his eyes to focus, _"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Where Fantasy and Fun Come to Life!"_ he deadpanned as he read the faded and stained sign.

"More like, _'Where Horror and Bloodshed Are Sure to Make Your Day!'_ " Peter McNamee mocked in a snide manner, slamming the van's door shut, the words " **FAZBEAR'S FRIGHT** " emblazoned on it in slime green lettering, and strolling over to the front to join his co-workers.

"Ugh, oh come off it, Peter!" scolded Nina Hunte while rolling her brown eyes and adjusting her dirty blonde ponytail that was pulled through the back of her black cap. "Do I have to remind you how old the victims were when shit started going down here?"

"Sir, no Sir!" came the joking reply followed by a mock salute.

Nina shook her head. "Jackass..." she fretted under her breath.

"Hey, you two, quit bickering. We have a job to do. That's why we're here, remember?" reminded Neil to his friends and fellow employees. "This is the last place Jason wanted us to check out. We might find something here for sure."

"But this place looks like such a dump." observed Nina, also shining her flashlight over the building. "Not even the older location was this bad, and it was closed for much longer, too."

"That's because the other Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was right in the middle of town and not next to the woods." pointed out Peter, while Neil fumbled with a key in the padlocked gate erected over the broken front doors.

It was true.

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza had seen better days.

The once-gleaming structure the two men and lone woman beheld was but a shadow of its former self, when the aromas of delicious pizzas, cotton candies and fried foods wafted compellingly through its glass double doors, all the while intermingled with sounds of happy children and boisterous, cheerful singing that could perk up even the gloomiest of patrons, both young and small. Yes, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was something special... but no matter how hard it tried, the establishment could never escape it's horrifying past, and its past always came back to haunt it again and again.

Where the once pristine walls, rendered in alternating colours of beige and tan, warmly welcomed customers, it was now all defaced with crude graffiti of black, red and white. The immediate surroundings were littered with empty bottles of glass and plastic, and cardboard boxes rendered useless by vagrants that used them for shelter. The awnings rotted through from years of neglect and rain; only tiny fragments with the company's distinct shade of purple could barely be seen on the metal frames. Wide windows that used to let in so much natural daylight lay shattered and broken with sheets of plywood, soiled from dirty hands, tightly boarding up the apertures. The structure closely resembled a makeshift fortress for an imaginary zombie apocalypse that would never come.

The lone part of the exterior that remained in somewhat decent condition was the pizzeria's sign. Time had been kinder to it for some reason since the colours of the mascots and words were still clearly seen on the rectangular board with a semicircular bulge on top.

Freddy Fazbear, the big, brown and blue-eyed bear with his top hat and microphone clearly identified himself as the leader from his center spot in the gang, while on his right was the purple bunny Bonnie with his red bow tie that waved happily at party-goers. To Freddy's left was the yellow chicken Chica, the only girl of the group, who was distinguished by her pink-frosted cupcake with its peculiar bulging blue eyes and her white bib that spelt out "LET'S EAT!" in enthusiastic yellow lettering. On Chica's left was Foxy the Pirate, a reddish-brown fox that smiled with an open mouth full of pointy teeth and a black eye patch covering his left eye while his uncovered gleaming golden one shone from his right socket. A silver hook poked up from behind the sign's lettering as if to let viewers know just what he was supposed to be. The eye patch made it pretty obvious nonetheless.

The cheerful sign stood in stark contrast to the ruined facade and reminded Neil, Nina and Peter of some sort of twisted grave-marker; a cenotaph that doubled as a memorial to a history bedeviled with tragedy, sorrow and mystery. A history that somehow could never remain history.

"Got it!" beamed Neil when he finally managed to get the key to turn in the rusty padlock with it and the chain falling loose to the ground seconds later. "We're in guys. You ready?"

"And here I was thinking I would have to get out the metal cutters." smirked Peter, before turning to address Nina. "Ladies first."

"Age before beauty, Petey dear. You know the rules." reminded Nina with a smirk of her own. "After you."

"My pleasure."

And with that, the three stepped carefully one by one through the red double doors and into the pitch black restaurant that had been Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, not knowing what they would find inside or what would find them.

* * *

 **9:27 PM – Inside Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

"Good God, this place is awful!" choked Nina from the overpowering damp smell of rotting wood and moldy cloth. "Remind me why we're here again?"

Neil, leading the way from in front, turned his head to the blonde whilst gingerly stepping over broken tiles and fallen ceiling panels that covered the floor. "We are here because our boss, Jason Simpson, thinks we might find a fully-working animatronic that could be restored in time for the horror attraction's opening night. He also wants whatever else we could find that might be useful: arcade games, clothing, decorations, pizza pans... the works."

"I told Jason like fifteen times already we are never going to find a whole, working animatronic in these places." noted Peter, dropping his wise guy act for the time being. "The Toy animatronic shells are all accounted for from the other location, but what machine parts we did find are completely useless."

"Hold on, but didn't you say three nights ago that you couldn't find Marionne the Marionette anywhere there?" injected Nina, who took in their new surroundings.

They stood in the center of what had been the main dining area of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Inside the establishment's largest room were the broken and splintered remnants of three large wooden tables and scattered, V-backed bar-like stools with yellow stars emblazoned on the black vinyl; all were now faded and torn with the foam decayed away into practically nothing.

Across the walls were stained with streaks of black mold from the rainwater that seeped in from the ceiling on damp nights. A huge hole gaped where part of the roof had given way and exposed the cool night sky. Flaking speckles of purple paint lined the red and blue tiled floor along with caked layers of dust and the long dead remains of cockroaches and mice. Overlooking the whole room was the show stage, where the animatronics Freddy, Bonnie and Chica once performed for happy-go-lucky customers. The stage now sagged and collapsed in various places with the floorboards dotted with termite holes while the torn and moth-eaten curtains hung forlornly like a used noose.

Across the dining area, on the right, was the Pirate's Cove where Captain Foxy once held court with tales of the Seven Seas to captivated audiences listening to his every word and song. Now, the large, cylindrical purple curtain with many sparkles and stars cascaded down in sad tatters and was barely recognizable as the once-beloved attraction.

All in all, the entire place still carried a spark of life in it that neither adult could fully understand, as if it was waiting patiently for kids to fill the seats once more for a final grand performance.

A swan song it would never get to sing.

"Oh yeah, I forgot." remembered Peter, nudging a fallen chair with the toe of his sneaker. "I looked in his box where he should've been fastened into and there was no sign of him. I looked everywhere in that restaurant and turned up nothing but a spare mask."

"You think someone took him? Like maybe thrill seekers looking for souvenirs?" pondered Nina aloud.

"Probably. It's not like Marionne just got up and walked away by himself."

"Not if the stories about that place were true."

"Guys," interjected Neil. "Less talking, more searching. The sooner we find something, the faster we can get out of here."

"Good point. This place gives me the creeps." affirmed Nina.

"How about we split up?" suggested Peter as they reached the center of the room. "We can cover more ground that way and finish faster."

"Sounds like a plan to me." agreed Neil. "I'm gonna go and check the night guard's office and the supply closet. Nina, you stay here and take a look around. Search the backstage if need be. And Peter, you go back and check the restrooms; we passed them on the way in here."

"Got it." nodded Peter before adding, "What about the kitchen?"

"We'll save that for last. I always heard some interesting stories about that kitchen." assured Neil, heading off towards the east hallway that led to the night guard's office.

"Yeah, me too." added Peter. "They say that sometimes you could hear weird circus music coming from in there at night after hours. Or that Chica was always trying to cook up a storm in there. Who knows?"

"Yeah... who knows..." whispered Neil to himself while he slowly walked down the hallway, passing cut-outs of newspaper articles and children's drawings along the way. Time had almost left those scraps untouched and many of them looked as if they were stuck up on the wall only yesterday. He passed a **Rules For Safety** poster that listed several instructions that read:

 _· Don't run._

 _· Don't yell._

 _· Don't scream._

 _· Don't poop on floor._

 _· Stay close to Mom._

 _· Don't touch Freddy._

 _· Don't hit._

 _· Leave before dark._

Neil snickered lightly at the fourth one, imagining how many incidents it took for management to make it a written rule. He pushed aside thick black wires that hung creepily like weeping willow branches from the sagging ceiling that lost most of its panels long ago. The feeling of the old insulation brushing against his skin gave him goose bumps.

Something more had to be here. There just had to be.

At last Neil reached the night guard's office. Small, cramped and strange described the room perfectly.

As he poked his head in through the door, he noticed immediately that there was another door right in front of him that opened into the west hall and led to the supply closet. Stepping in, he saw a small metal chair on his left at the back of the office and a matching desk against the wall on the right. The room had been cleared ever since of its monitoring devices and speakers, with the walls stripped bare of posters and drawings; all that remained was a dusty, metal, four-bladed fan on the desk's surface. There was even no sign of Chica's spare cupcake that apparently used to sit on one of the monitors.

Neil looked around and sat on the chair, looking to his left and then his right at the large windows that flanked his sides and allowed him to see somewhat into the halls.

"So this is where you cut your teeth, Mike Schmidt, surviving against those terrors. Poor bastard..." he murmured, pressing the red and gray buttons marked " **DOOR** " and " **LIGHT** " respectively and half-expecting the metal doors to come sliding shut or eerie fluorescent lights to flicker and illuminate either Bonnie or Chica looming outside.

Nothing. The power was long gone.

Neil leaned back in the chair for a moment and took a deep breath, pondering the former night guard's statements made to the newspapers back in 1993. Weird hallucinations, changing posters, killer animatronics, the threat of being stuffed into a spare suit, a cover-up by Fazbear Entertainment? It was no surprise that the then barely twenty-year-old man was written off as a disturbed and obsessive drug addict who recklessly tampered with the animatronics and was a danger to himself and others. He was also suspected of being behind the mysterious disappearance of the pizzeria's other security guard, Barry Driscoll, but without sufficient evidence to indict him no charges were filed, but poor Mike Schmidt was nevertheless promptly thrown into an asylum for the next year-and-a-half for his crazy stories.

 _"_ _But was it really so crazy?"_ Neil thought to himself. After all, Mike was the third night guard at a Fazbear Entertainment restaurant to have publicly claimed that the animatronics were possessed and trying to kill him.

Two night guards at the other Freddy Fazbear's Pizza location, where Neil and his friends explored three nights prior, named Jeremy Fitzgerald and Fritz Smith, both made startlingly similar claims to those of Mike's back in 1987, except that where Mike had to face only four animatronics, both Jeremy and Fritz had to fend off eleven in total and with no doors to boot. A flashlight, a remote music box crank and an empty Freddy Fazbear head were their only defenses. They, too, got written off as mentally unstable individuals and disappeared with Mike into the annals of Fazbear history.

Before Neil could dwell on the topic any further he was interrupted by the sound of a loud crash that pierced the dark silence.

 _ **CRASH!**_

What the hell was that?" yelped Neil, practically jumping out of his seat.

 _"_ _Sorry!"_ shouted back Peter in the distance. _"The boys' bathroom door fell off its hinges! It's a mess over here!"_

"Well be more careful next time! We don't want this whole place to come crashing down on us now!" warned Neil, as he got up and exited the office and stepped over to the supply closet in the west hallway.

The brown-haired man cautiously opened the closet's door and breathed out in relief that nothing jumped out at him. The closet was small and nothing special, just a shelf with some bottles of bleach and disinfectant while a frayed mop in a bucket and dusty broom stood in one corner. Several cans of spray paint lay scattered on the ground like smoking guns left at a crime scene; poignant reminders of no respect for the dead.

A black duffel bag caught Neil's attention, and, raising an eyebrow, he reached down and picked it up before dusting it off. There was a tag attached to the zipper. He pointed his flashlight at it and squinted at the small words written in purple marker: _"PROPERTY OF VINCENT DICARLO"_.

"Hmm... I knew you'd turn up again sooner or later, Mr. DiCarlo." noted the twenty-eight-year-old in a curious tone before attempting to unzip the bag, but was distracted by the sound of another crash in the distance.

Neil snapped his head back in the direction of the dining area, "You guys found anything good back there?" he called out to his co-workers as he cast his flashlight beam side to side in the hallway while moving carefully over dusty debris and broken floor tiles with the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He could not see the gouge marks etched deeply in long, thin trails along the wall, as if something repeatedly scratched and dragged itself across the surface many times over.

"Not a thing." came the reply from Nina, who was coming out of the crumbling backstage and crossing the floor to meet Neil. "Just some more drawings and a paper plate doll... oh, and some mascot figurines!"

In her arms was a cardboard box filled with the aforementioned items that she held up to show him.

Neil ran his free hand through his straight brown hair and peered at the items. "Well, I don't think some pieces of paper and cloth are gonna cut it." he said matter-of-factly, before shifting the duffel bag to his other shoulder. "But I did manage to find a bag that belonged to Vincent DiCarlo."

Nina cocked her head. "Him again? What is with that guy? At every single Freddy Fazbear's Pizza that ever opened, this Vincent fellow always found himself working there... even back when it was just Fredbear's Family Diner."

Neil could only shrug in response, but quipped. "Well, I'm sure it wasn't because of the pizza... but what can I say? He was the best at what he did, Fazbear Entertainment paid him good money, and he chose to stay with the company."

"Can we go now? I think we found all we could here now." asked Nina, checking her wristwatch. It was quarter to ten.

Neil shook his head, "Nah, not yet. Jason's been riding my ass all week to find something big; Fazbear's Fright opens up at the end of the month and we need a star attraction. I can't go back with just this."

He paused and looked around.

"Say, have you heard from Peter again?"

"No, not since he knocked off the bathroom door."

"He's gone awfully quiet back there... Hey Peter! You found anything yet? Hello... Peter?"

No answer.

"Maybe he can't hear us?" speculated Neil, resting the duffel bag on one of the dining tables and looking in the direction of the restrooms.

Nina rolled her brown eyes and set down her box onto the table as well before adjusting her ponytail again. "Knowing him, he's probably just playing one of his jokes. Remember when he threw his lit joint into the vents at Fazbear's Fright and all of us had those trippy hallucinations?"

"Oh, yeah. My eyes were, like, spinning from me going around in circles trying to get out of that place. How many times did I get jumpscared by a charred-looking Balloon Boy again? Jason thought it was the funniest thing ever... the pothead." remembered Neil with a sigh.

"Yeah well, you were lucky you only had Balloon Boy. I kept getting pounced by a burnt Foxy!" Nina shuddered, remembering how she thought the blackened robotic fox was going to rip her to shreds with its teeth when it lunged hungrily at her only to unexpectedly disappear into thin air. She shook the memory off and added, "Well, let's just forget about that right now and find Peter and see if he's found anything useful."

"Fine with me. Let's go."

With that, both Neil and Nina strode steadfastly to find their co-worker, turning into the dark passageway with only their flashlights to show them the way, and trying not to let their resolve cool with trepidation.

"Peter! You there?" shouted Neil as the male and female restrooms came into view, noticing that the outer walls were still hung with large and festive decorations of pizza pies and slices. The top of the restroom walls showcased zigzagged graffiti drawn colourfully on its faded purple surface, while most of the bottom part's black-and-white checkerboard tiles had fallen off and scattered themselves across the matching floor. Sure enough, as Nina and Neil could see, the once boarded up door to the boys' bathroom was lying on the ground, just like their co-worker had reported.

"Are you in there, Peter? This had better not be one of your stupid jokes!" warned Nina as she aimed her flashlight into the restroom, the whitish-yellow light doing little to reveal anything.

They stepped closer, this time slower, their breathing coming practically to a standstill when they received no response from their stocky friend.

"Come on, man! This isn't funny anymore! Are you OK? Answer me!" called Neil.

The two of them stuck their heads into the bathroom past the door to peer inside.

"Peter...?"

 _"_ _YAAARRRGHHHH! AVAST YE SCURVY_ _LAN'LUBB'RS!"_

Both Neil and Nina shrieked and jumped startlingly from fright at the unexpected cacophony of a raspy and bellowing voice that erupted out of the darkness right behind them. Two sets of eyes, one brown and one blue, bulged in terror at the sight floating menacingly in the hallway, blocking their path and cutting off their escape.

The head of a large, anthropomorphic fox with frayed and worn crimson fur hovered threateningly at them in midair, darting left to right, back and forth like a crazed housefly. Its wide eyes glowed yellow with the ferocity of a thousand full moons while its jaw, filled with pointy canines of enamel and gold, flapped up and down and gnashed ferociously at the petrified pair.

Captain Foxy of the Pirate Cove was back for one last kill.


	3. A New Discovery

**A New Discovery**

* * *

"Oh my fucking God! What the hell?!" screamed Nina, grappling onto Neil's arm as her eyes frantically searched for a quick getaway.

"Holy shit, he's real!" cried Neil, swinging his flashlight like a baton at the fox's head while adrenaline pumped through his body, preparing to go full throttle into fight or flight mode.

The flying fox head spoke again in its stereotypical pirate accent.

 _"_ _YAAARRGGGHHH! ME NAME BE CAPT'N FOXY! HAND O'ER YER BOOTIES ARR WALK THE PLANK!"_

A gleaming silver hook materialized itself from the darkness and pointed murderously at the man and woman, but it was then that the sound of a loud crack from below snapped them out of their terror.

 _ **CRACK!**_

Neil reflexively looked down and noticed two strange white objects on the cluttered floor; he pointed his flashlight and saw, standing on a now-broken black tile, the unmistakable white toe boxes of high-top sneakers that protruded from the legs of a pair of black jeans. It could have only meant one thing...

"PETER!" they both simultaneously exploded at the former frat boy, now losing all fear of the animatronic head from which muffled sounds of laughter began to escape.

"Peter, you are such an asshole, you know that!? Jesus Christ..." fumed Nina, flaring her hands as if she wanted to strangle the tall man who removed the old Foxy head and smoothed his light brown crew cut. His white skin was red from laughter and glistened with sweat.

"HA HA! You should have seen the looks on your faces when I jumped out of the girls' bathroom!" Peter McNamee half-laughed, half-wheezed from being out of breath, "You actually thought Foxy was gonna kill you! HA HA HA!"

"I could kill you right about now, man!" seethed Neil, his knuckles white from clenching his flashlight's handle as if he wanted to whack his co-worker across the head with it. "That wasn't funny! What if you were an actual intruder or something?! If I had a gun on me, I could've shot you!"

"Oh come on, Neil, grow some skin." dismissed Peter, taking out his flashlight from within Foxy's head, revealing how he got the eyes to light up. "It was just a joke... and I got you both good! Admit it!"

"Ughhh..." snorted Nina in annoyed disgust. "Fine. Whatever. You got us good! You feel special now, boo boo? You want a cookie or something?"

 _"_ _What Foxy wants is some precious booty, lass!"_ teased Peter in his mock pirate voice.

"I'd rather be keelhauled, thank you." came the retort.

"Now that that's over," interrupted Neil before another snark contest commenced, "Where did you get that old Foxy head and hook?"

"You're not gonna believe this, man, but I found them. I found them all... back in the boys' bathroom." Peter relayed, motioning to the doorless frame behind his friends. "When the door came off, I walked inside and there they were all in a heap - Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy - all together."

"Seriously? This had better not be another prank or I swear I will stuff you in a Freddy Fazbear suit myself." glared Nina, removing her black cap and folding her arms in skepticism as Neil ducked into the bathroom to check.

"No, for real this time. Jason's gonna have a cow when he sees them." asserted Peter, tucking the Foxy head under his arm and twirling the hook round his finger.

"He's right, Nina. All the old animatronic suit parts are in there." confirmed Neil, coming out of the bathroom holding a black top hat that unmistakably belonged to the company's namesake himself: Freddy Fazbear. "Peter, did you see any endoskeleton parts back there, too?"

"Nada. Just the empty shells." he replied, stepping further down into the passageway to its dead end. There was a large cardboard box on its side up against a wall painted in faded purple; he turned the box upright and rested Foxy's empty head shell and hook into it. Curiously, the bottom half of the purple wall was not tiled in black and white like the rest of the passage.

"See? It's like what Peter and I said at the other restaurant where we found the Toys – there is no way a company like Fazbear Entertainment would leave behind such advanced technology. I mean, you guys remember back in the day how their animatronics were so different from the ones at Disney World and Chuck E. Cheese's, right?" said Nina, reminiscing back to the times she and her parents used to go to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza when it was in operation. "Before the Bite of 87, when Fredbear took off some kid's frontal lobe, the animatronics weren't bolted to the floor on stage. They could move all around the place and you could touch and interact freely with them; not like other places where you had to keep your distance. I haven't seen anything else that advanced anywhere since then."

"Yeah, poor kid... it's amazing he was able to hold onto life for the next six days after losing a good chunk of his brain." remembered Neil, dropping Freddy's hat into the box and heading back to the bathroom to get more of the scattered animatronic parts.

"Do you think maybe we'll find some body parts in there too? Rumor has it that when all those kids went missing and presumed dead over the years, the killer stuffed their corpses into the animatronics and that's how they became possessed." recounted Peter, causing Nina to make a face.

"Don't count on it." trailed Neil's voice from within the bathroom. "These things were dismantled for repairs and inspections many times over the years according to the maintenance logbooks. They would've found something ever since."

"Either way, I think Jason will be happy with what we found so far. We must have enough by now to make a good horror attraction." remarked Nina, checking her watch again. It was five minutes past ten now.

"Yeah, I just wished we could've found a full endoskeleton to go with these suits. I mean, it would make everything just perfect." said Neil in mild disappointment as he now came out carrying the purple and yellow heads of Bonnie the bunny and Chica the chicken respectively.

"Well what can I say? You win some, you lose some. Just like with women." observed Peter nonchalantly as Neil disappeared back into the bathroom for more parts.

"Whatever." dismissed Nina, bending over to retie her low-cut Converses. "Look, I'm gonna go find some more boxes to put this stuff in. I'll be back in a sec."

Seeing Nina's bent over backside, ever more pronounced in her skinny black jeans, Peter felt it was time for one last scare of the night. He quietly picked up the Foxy head from inside the box and tiptoed right up behind the young blonde, holding Foxy's jaw wide open before speaking once more in his pirate voice.

 _"_ _Swiggity swooty!"_ he spoke, building his voice from a whisper to a crescendo. _"I'm coming for that booty!"_ and with that, he gently clamped down Foxy's jaw over Nina's rear end, not enough to cause pain but more than adequate to give her a sudden, unpleasant sensation.

"AAAHH!" yelped Nina, jumping out of her skin for the second time of the night. "You asshole!" she shot when she saw the culprit behind her.

 _"_ _HAHAHA! Ahoy there! Old Foxy has plundered ye booty!"_ cackled Peter.

"Plunder this, you jerk!" countered the reply followed by one hard shove against his chest.

"Hey – WHOA! AAAHHH!" hollered Peter when he stumbled back and slipped on a loose tile. The big, former high school jock fell back hard against the discolored wall where the box of animatronic shells was gathered.

 _ **WHAM! CRRRUUUNNNCCCHHH! CRAAAAACCCCKKK! SMASHHH!**_

The wall, without warning, caved in and promptly fractured and shattered into many pieces from the force of the collision. Splinters flew in all directions and clouds of dust were kicked up, momentarily obscuring the revealing ray of Nina's flashlight and causing its owner great alarm.

"Oh my God! What the hell!" cried Nina, rushing forward to help up Peter to see if he was hurt. "I'm so sorry! I should've never pushed you..." she trailed off as Neil came pelting out of the bathroom.

"What the fuck happened here?" he demanded, his blue eyes widening at the destruction when he took in the scene.

"Peter decided to be funny again and scare me." explained Nina as she helped Peter to his feet while dusting him off. "But this time I pushed him back and he fell against the wall. It broke."

Neil let out an aggravated sigh, "Seriously, Peter? If you keep doing stupid shit, you're gonna one day..."

But he did not get to finish as Nina suddenly cut him off.

"Hey, hold on a sec, there's a door here guys." she spoke, pointing her flashlight at a pair of double doors that now appeared at the end of the hallway. They were large and wide with a heavy coat of varnish; a single keyhole could be seen under the lone doorknob. "This wall was fake... all of it." she observed, kicking a piece of the concealing covering with her foot.

A confused look came over Neil's face as he pulled the folded blueprints from his pocket and scanned the paper for any sign of the mysterious room the new set of double doors led to.

"This doesn't make any sense." he stated, shaking his head. "This room is not anywhere on the blueprints; it's not supposed to exist."

"But why was it sealed up in the first place? What's inside that they wanted to keep hidden away?" asked Peter, now standing close to Neil and alternating between peering down at the blueprints and staring at the closed double doors.

"Only one way to find out. Here, hold this." determined Neil, handing the flashlight and blue prints over to Peter and pulling Foxy's hook from the cardboard box.

"What are you doing with that?"queried Nina, stepping to the side to let Neil get to the secret door.

He glanced aside to her, "Going to get some answers. Step back."

 ** _THWUMP! WHAPLAX! CRAAACK!_**

With careful aim and a bit of strength, Neil swung and jammed the former pirate fox's hook into the side of the keyhole and twisted and pulled. The hook itself was surprisingly quite solid and held up extremely well considering it was meant to be for a kids' attraction; Neil could not help but imagine the same hook tearing into the flesh and bones of defenseless night guards and puncturing their skulls to satiate its owner's blood lust. It made his blood crawl.

 _ **SNAP! CRUNCH!**_

"Piece of cake!" smirked Neil in triumph as he managed to rip and pry the lock, keyhole and all, straight out of the door which then swung widely open. The wood was old and rotten from the years of dampness and the lock rusty from disuse, pulling it out of the door was a cinch. "Peter, gimme the flashlight."

Handing the flashlight to his partner, Peter suddenly wrinkled his nose as a fetid wave of putrefaction washed over them. "Holy shit, what's that smell?" he choked, fanning the air in front of him while Nina gagged from the pungent aroma.

Neil's free hand shot up and clamped over his nose and mouth. The scent was thick, heavy and horrible, like the acrid stench of a burning clutch mixed with the odors of an abattoir. It was almost overpowering and made the three want to keel over and vomit at the same time.

"Did an animal die in there or something? God, it reeks!" choked Nina, holding her nose.

"I dunno. Probably." said a perplexed Neil in a muffled voice through his hand, before cautiously stepping into the secret room, with Nina and Peter staying behind outside. "But I'm going to find out now. Stay here."

"You don't need to tell us." agreed Peter in a relieved voice.

The room Neil found himself in was not particularly big. Approximately twenty feet across by nine-and-a-half feet wide, it was rectangular from what he could tell, and was tiled in the same black and white checkered pattern and featured a low ceiling. Spotting his flashlight straight ahead, the man could make out three arcade cabinets with their names clearly emblazoned on the tops: "SPACE INVADERS", "PAC-MAN" and "FREDBEAR AND FRIENDS: THE GAME".

"Hmmm... these might be good to put in the attraction." he mused. "I wonder if..."

His train of thought was immediately derailed by the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck.

He was not alone.

Neil turned his head slowly to his right and squinted into the darkness. Something was over there... he could sense its two eyes watching him and felt the ghastly grin it proudly wore mocking him from the shadows.

Could it be?

As he edged closer, the beam from his flashlight gradually allowed more and more of the thing's features to reveal itself to the light's curious embrace. Now, completely exposed in the eerie, spectral gleam of the artificial torch, Neil felt his heart skip a beat, when, before him, lay the elusively tantalizing artifact he and his friends quested for like Crusaders for the Holy Grail.

At last.

An animatronic with a full endoskeleton.

Jackpot.

As he scrutinized his discovery, he took note of the many twisted wires and jagged metal, the lifelike eyes of plastic and glass that stared aimlessly into dark space, the missing bunny ear, the listless arms and sprawling legs of metal, and the skin of dirty and mottled yellow-green. But yet, he could only think of one thing...

It was perfect.

A pleased smile spreading slowly across his face, Neil turned his head to divulge the fantastic news to his friends. "Hey guys, you're not going to believe this!"

"What? What is it, Neil?" responded Nina, now starting to make her way into the formerly secret room.

"Yeah, whatcha find? Is it something good?" asked Peter, also accompanying Nina.

Neil turned back to his find which was lying slumped against the wall in a long dried-up pool of dark liquid. Oil? Hydraulic fluid? Was that what was causing that awful smell in the air? And for a moment he could swear that he saw a glint of something in those eyes, something like... life, but he dismissed that thought just as quickly as it had come. There was no way.

"Even better..." he started to the others, then following up by enunciating the next three words slowly and one at a time.

 _"_ _...we... found... one..."_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lots more to come soon, and don't worry it picks up and gets darker later on. I would love to hear some feedback, so don't hesitate to review and/or ask questions. :-)**


	4. What is Seen in Shadows

**What is Seen in Shadows...**

* * *

 **A Darkened Room**

 _The first thing Douglas Blackburn noticed was that he was cold. And stiff._

"Wha-where am I?" _he yawned as if waking up from a deep sleep while his vision came into focus from pitch black darkness. Straight in front of him Douglas could make out faint shapes of tables and striped party hats while hanging, glittery cut-outs of stars and sparkles decorated his periphery. But it was all strange, for the eyes he was seeing out of were not his own._

"What the..." _he started again before he was interrupted by a chilling sound that cut through the blackened room's silence._

 _ **"**_ _ **HaaHAaaa...!"**_

 _Staring through the large, rounded eye holes directly in front of his own, and taking note of the brown muzzle tipped with a big black nose that extended beyond the eye holes, Douglas slowly turned his head without so much as a breath._

 _ **WHIRRRRRR!**_

 _A mechanical whirring sound resonated through his head, which he found to be surprisingly rigid and heavy, as he moved it to his left. His sight continually flickered with little black and white dots all clustered together at once._

 _Static._

 _It was just like what he would see on his television screen when the reception was bad, his vision would twitch and blink and momentarily fail with bursts of it. But what was worse was that as Douglas moved his head, the strange sound he heard before kept punctuating the rising tension building within his unresponsive body._

 _ **"**_ _ **HAaahaAahaHAaa... HahaHA...!"**_

"Is that children?" _crossed the thought in Douglas's mind while he turned his head. It couldn't be... could it? It was very much like a group of children laughing and singing as they played, but it was clearly not of this world. It was very high-pitched and sounded distorted and demented; barely human and almost mocking him in his efforts._

"But why would... Chica?" _started Douglas, before his train of thought was derailed by the view of the yellow animatronic chicken with her white bib coming into focus on his left. She was silent and not moving; no indication of life in her, unlike him._ "If you're here, then does that mean..."

 ** _WHIRRRRRR!_**

 _Douglas turned his noisy head as fast as he could (which was not very fast at all) to his right. A tall, purple rabbit animatronic stood closely to his right, clutching a red and white V-series electric guitar._ "Bonnie? What is going on? Am I... Freddy...?"

 _ **"**_ _ **HAhAhaHaahahaaaaaaaahaAAaaaaaAaaaaaaa... !"**_

 _But before Douglas could dwell on his current situation any longer, the immensely creepy sound suddenly became louder, more frantic and twisted by the second while Douglas's head began to vibrate and tingle. There was no stopping it as it grew in intensity._

 _Douglas could only move his new Freddy head side to side in vain attempts to shake the noise from rattling his head off; it was driving him insane and he wanted badly for it to stop. But before he could open his mouth to scream, a flat, electronic sound punched through the rising cacophony of torment and threatened to make his eardrums explode. Static claimed more and more of his vision and made the images of the party hats and animatronics disappear in a sea of frantic little black and white balls of light._

 _ **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- BZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTT!**_

 _And then there was nothing. Only silence. Only blackness._

* * *

 **August 19, 2013 – 8:00 AM – Capitol Heights, Harrisburg – River Plaza, Apartment #I3**

Douglas woke up with a jolt and covered in cold sweat. He was breathing hard and staring straight ahead.

"Damn dream again." he grumbled to himself before letting out one deep sigh with the relief that he was safe from harm. Sitting up in his bed, he cast his brown eyes to the clock on his bedside table, the green digital numbers spelt out 8:00 AM. Time to get up.

Douglas yawned and then swung his legs off the side of the bed in preparation to begin another day, he exhaled and hung his head low to let the sleep and grogginess slowly drain from his body, and then with a stretch he rose from his bed and made his way to the bathroom.

Reaching it, he flicked on the light switch and squinted his eyes when fluorescent light flooded the small green-and-white-tiled bathroom. When his eyes adjusted, he strode over to the sink and turned on the cold faucet, splashing his face several times with the icy, clear liquid to jumpstart his internal motors.

Douglas turned off the water and looked wearily at his reflection in the mirror. Light brown, almond-shaped eyes stared intently back at their master's face, taking in the features as they had always done for every morning.

With clear skin an even shade of caramel covering a slim five foot nine inch frame, close-cropped straight and wavy dark brown hair so deep it could almost be considered black, and a straight nose completing his otherwise Caucasoid features, twenty-six-year-old Douglas Blackburn could be described honestly of having exotic origins. Indeed, in many ways he did, for both his parents hailed from the small Caribbean island of Grenada, having moved to the United States in 1985, and having him as their only child who was an exciting blend of white, black and Indian racial flavours.

After taking a leak for relief, Douglas made his way back through his bedroom and crossed through his apartment's living room and kitchen to the front door.

"The paper should be there by now." hoped Douglas to himself, as he turned the lock and unfastened the bolt, opening the white-painted door to reveal the folded copy of The Pennsylvania Chronicle. Looking to his left and then to his right, Douglas, with barely a sound, scooped up the paper and disappeared back into the apartment.

"Another day, another job hunt," Douglas sighed, flicking on the coffee pot to start making his daily cup of Tim Horton's, "Please let there be something in here today..."

Sitting at his kitchen counter's bar stool, he quickly skimmed through the most important-looking stories until he reached the classifieds section where all the available jobs were listed. His eyes went back and forth across the pages as he searched fruitlessly and mentally crossed off the openings that were not suitable.

 _"_ _Burger flipper... no. Waiter... no. House cleaner... no. Costumed performer for Cheeky's Chicken Barn... hell no!"_

Douglas took a sip from his steaming mug and frowned, letting the opened newspaper rest dejectedly on his lap. Nothing again so far. But it was not that he was too proud and too high and mighty to work such jobs, rather, that he was concerned about the pay that came with them. Most of the jobs that paid well were things like travel agents, assistant managers, accountants or event organisers, but Douglas knew right off the bat that he was neither qualified nor had the necessary number of years of experience required for such a post.

But all the other openings were minimum wage jobs with no guarantee of overtime or any indication that it was even offered at all, and if that was the case, he knew it would not be enough to pay the bills and other basic living expenses. Rent, utilities, food and health insurance all added up, and it was not like he was a teenager just starting out who would be happy with any little space and eating cheap fast food every day; he was a grown man with responsibilities and a life he had already been building for five years now. To start over at this point would be a massive setback to everything he had accomplished since he finished college. He couldn't fail himself, and he definitely could not fail his parents, or their memory.

Douglas cast his gaze to the large family photograph taken when they had all just moved to New York when he was just seven-years-old. Lynn and Michael Blackburn happily hugged their son and only child close together at Madison Square Garden while an unknown photographer snapped the joyous family caught in their excitement at moving to one of the biggest cities in the world. All a distant memory now and one that would bring back the wonderful times but would subsequently be washed over with echoes of the night of January 16th, 2008. The night jetBlue Flight 595 went down.

The twenty-six-year-old pushed the memories from his head and turned his attention back to the paper. With another sip of coffee, he flipped over the large page, and what he saw next made his eyes swell with surprise and recognition.

Taking up a decently large section of the bottom center part of the page was an attention-grabbing advertisement with white capital letters on a black background flaunting their message:

 **COMING SOON!**

Douglas raised an eyebrow and read on:

 _Fazbear's Fright:_

 _The Horror Attraction!_

 _Local amusement park is getting ready to scare your socks off with a new attraction based on the unsolved mysteries of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza._

 _Featuring actual relics from the decades-old pizzeria, this new attraction is guaranteed to bring back your childhood in the worst possible way!_

Beside the ad was a colourless picture of a large and somewhat blocky head of an animatronic bear that Douglas remembered as belonging to the titular Freddy of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. The head was one solid colour of what Douglas recalled as being a dark creamy brown with a lighter shade on his puffy muzzle, while three black freckles dotted both its sides. Freddy's large black nose was the same colour as his thick eyebrows, and squarish, human-like teeth protruded only from his lower jaw with none from his upper one.

The anthropomorphic bear's rounded, articulated ears, which could move back and forth and up and down, were nowhere to be seen as was his trademark black top hat and blue eyes. The friendly sapphire glass spheres now seemed to be replaced with two lanterns of some sort, and his mouth hung agape in a way that made Douglas feel that the once bright and cheery mascot was calling out for help.

Looking at the photo made something stir inside Douglas's mind... a faint memory languishing in the corridors of recollection. Pizza... candy... whizz-banging arcade games... cake and lots of singing; it was all just wisps, tiny breaths of remembrances from his early childhood.

He definitely knew he visited Freddy Fazbear's Pizza when he was a child of about five or six. The children's songs, the restaurant decor, the greasy food and the animatronics were rooted firmly in his mind and he knew that Freddy himself was always his favourite. Even now, he still held a certain fondness for the bear with his twinkling blue eyes, black top hat, bowtie and microphone clutched constantly in his right hand. But what really drew Douglas to Freddy was his deep and sweet voice which made him sound dim-witted, but nevertheless a loving and kind friend that made one feel like the most special person on the planet.

Yet, strangely, apart from the few echoes of times long past in his mind, Douglas could not remember anything else about that part of his childhood. Between the one or two visits he recalled and the move to New York back in late 1993, everything was blank. There was nothing.

But there was that strange dream he kept having every so often where he would wake up in a darkened Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, seeing through the eyes of Freddy himself with an inactive Bonnie and Chica at his sides and distorted, almost demonic-like children's laughter echoing throughout the room. All he could do was move his (or Freddy's) head from side to side to look at his band mates, and it always ended the exact same way – with the laughter becoming more frantic and crazed, static clouding his vision, and a dull but loud electronic sound pealing through his eardrums – and then he would abruptly wake up.

Douglas could never explain it, and when he first told his parents about it, they were very quick to dismiss it as nothing more than a dream of him wanting to go back to his old home in Pennsylvania and to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

But after the crash of Flight 595, and the burial of his parents, Douglas decided to sell his newly-inherited home of fourteen years and move back to Pennsylvania because while he was happy in New York, he always felt a longing for Penn State with its slower pace of life, friendlier people and quietness. It had been, after all, his place of birth.

Closing his eyes and shaking his head with dismissal, Douglas turned his attention back to the Fazbear's Fright ad. Beneath the announcement was an opening for a job written in smaller text. It read:

 _Help Wanted:_

 _Opening for a part-time/full-time Security Guard for Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction._

 _Must be able to work night shifts 7 days a week from 12 AM to 6 PM._

 _. No experience required._

 _. Be authorized to work in the United States._

 _. Background check not required._

 _. Minimum age – 18 years and over._

 _Pay is $50 per hour._

 _Call today or leave a message at (717) 368-4527 to schedule an interview._

Douglas's brown eyes widened again when he saw the hourly rate of pay.

"$50 an hour?!" he questioned aloud in puzzlement, "I only made half of that at the magazine! Do these people realize how much money they're _giving away_ for _this_ job?"

He knew by doing some quick maths in his head that at $50 an hour, six hours a night every day for a week, he would be earning roughly $2100 a week for a grand total of $8400 a month! That would more than cover his bills and living expenses, and leave enough remaining for some savings. But there had to be a catch... if they were offering so much money, why would Fazbear's Fright need to put out an ad in the paper that stated no experience and background check were required? It seemed too good to be true, but Douglas knew he had to at least make the effort to see what Fazbear's Fright was all about; it was better than just sitting idly at home waiting for a job to fall into his lap.

Douglas picked up his black landline telephone and anxiously dialed the number in the advertisement. The phone rang once, twice, three times and then someone answered; it was a clear male voice with a light Texan accent mixed with a hint of a Wisconsin one.

 _"_ _Hello, Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction. This is Neil Cave speaking. How may I help you?"_

"Good Morning, Sir. My name is Douglas Blackburn and I am calling about the newspaper advertisement you placed in the paper?"

 _"_ _Oh yes, the security guard opening."_

"Right. Um, I would like to schedule an appointment, if possible, whenever it is convenient for you. I am very interested in the post. Is it still available?"

 _"_ _It sure is. You are the only one who has called about it so far. You can come over anytime after 11, but Jason Simpson's the one you'll have to speak to; he's the owner."_

"That'll be just fine. What's the address?"

 _"_ _It's in the outskirts of Harrisburg at 1331 West Kirton Drive; it's next to some woods and has a huge sign with bright green letters. You can't miss it."_

"OK thanks, Mr. Cave, that's not too far from where I live. I'll be there later. Have a good day and thank you."

 _"_ _No problem. See you later."_

And with that, Douglas hung up the phone and did a little fist pump in the air while grinning widely. This was sure to be a slam dunk!

"Well, I better get something to eat now and then get ready soon." he said as he looked up at the clock hung up on the wall which read 8:47 AM.

"This is gonna be interesting." Douglas added, not knowing that this trip to Fazbear's Fright would mean the beginning of many nights of terror to come. A door to the past was beginning to open now, and it was a door that he would never be able to close on his own again.

* * *

 **10:50 AM - 1331 West Kirton Drive – Outside Fazbear's Fright**

"This is it?" emitted Douglas when the bus he was on rumbled noisily away down the street from the bus stop. "Where's the amusement park? The rides? The concession stands?"

There was practically nothing.

Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction was creepy, but a bit underwhelming. A dull and dirty-looking gray building spread itself imposingly like a sinister shadow over a barren wasteland of cracked concrete and half-choked weeds that sprouted provokingly through the spidery fissures.

Douglas stepped closer to the property for a better look and observed that despite its pitiful shortcomings, it more than made up for it in sheer size and foreboding atmosphere. The building itself was huge and took up practically the entire lot with only a ten-foot high chain-link fence encircling the entire compound and locked off only with a sole gate at the front. The roof was covered with sheets of corrugated galvanized iron that was reddened with rust from years of exposure to the elements, while spray-painted all over the facade were tantalizing messages in black, purple and red to draw viewers in.

 ** _BITE OF 87_**

 ** _IT'S ME!_**

 ** _LITTLE CHILDREN BEWARE!_**

 ** _READY FOR FREDDY?_**

 ** _YOU CAN'T_**

The phrases criss-crossed this way and that, some large and some small, others were barely legible. But the thing that grabbed Douglas's attention the most was the huge sign positioned brazenly over the solitary door on top of the roof. The sign read:

 ** _FAZBEAR'S FRIGHT: THE HORROR ATTRACTION_**

 ** _Get ready to be scared... really scared!_**

The letters were written in large, bright, slime green letters that looked like they were going to drip right off the sign, and Douglas found it resembled the _Goosebumps_ logo from his childhood favourite series of books. But rising above the cheesy lettering were eerie depictions of the animatronic characters from Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy all manifested hauntingly in the form of shadowy silhouettes with only bright white teeth and menacing eyes of scarlet leering hungrily at passers-by. Looming above the shady quartet on the sign was a giant, decayed-looking pizza pie that dripped spookily with blood in place of tomato sauce and garnished with human body parts and skin in place of pepperoni and cheese.

"Well, if they really wanted to up the creep factor on this place, they sure as hell succeeded." confirmed Douglas. He also noticed there were no windows on any part of the building. It made the whole structure resemble an above ground burial vault ready to welcome one of the dearly departed.

"Here goes nothing." continued the man to himself before raising his fist to knock on the heavy metal door, when suddenly there came a voice.

 _"_ _Hey, can we help you or something?"_

Douglas swiftly turned around to spot a man and a woman dressed entirely in black heading his way on foot. The white-skinned twosome appeared to be a bit older than him in their late twenties and both were slightly above average in height.

"Uh, yeah... I'm here about the job opening? The security guard? I was the one who called earlier." explained Douglas as the man and woman finished walking up to him.

The fit and trim man was a few inches taller than Douglas, with short, tousled, light brown hair, and sported long and thick eyebrows that arched dramatically over celestial blue-coloured eyes. There was a certain sweet and gentle vibe he gave off that quickly put Douglas at ease, along with the friendly smile that spread on his face when he recognized the voice on the phone.

"Oh right, you're Douglas Blackburn. We spoke on the phone earlier." he noted before extending his hand for Douglas to shake it. "I'm Neil Cave by the way."

"Pleasure to meet you, Neil." greeted Douglas in response just as the young woman held out her hand as well.

"Nina Hunte." she declared, also shaking Douglas's brown-skinned hand when Neil was finished.

He noticed she was rather pretty with typical Nordic features and natural, full red lips. Her dirty blond hair was pulled back into a straight ponytail hanging almost to her waist; big brown eyes, rich as chocolate fudge, blinked unassumingly under thin-plucked eyebrows. But, unlike Neil, there was a certain undercurrent of seriousness about Nina that betrayed her youthful femininity, one that subtly let Douglas know not to push her buttons too far.

"Nice to meet you too, Nina." smiled Douglas, who surreptitiously eyed their outfits.

Both were dressed similarly in black clothing, perhaps casual uniforms of some sort, consisting of black T-shirts, black jeans, black and white Converse All Stars (low-cut in Nina's case, high-cut in Neil's) and black hoodies. On Nina's head was a black baseball cap that had her ponytail pulled through the back with the letters " **FF** " written in the same slime green dripping font as the building's sign. The same creepy letters were emblazoned in large across Neil's shirt whereas Nina's remained bare.

All the black clothing and dull colours of the surroundings made Douglas feel as if he was overdressed and out of place in his cream slacks and blue short-sleeved dress shirt.

"You're a little early." spoke up Neil Cave, checking his wristwatch, "Jason and Peter haven't gotten here yet. Do you mind if we call you Doug, by the way?"

"Sure, no problemo. I just wanted to get here a bit early, you know, make a good impression and all for your boss." answered Douglas, also checking his watch.

Nina folded her arms, "Trust me, all good impressions are lost on Jason Simpson."

"What do you mean by that?" queried a puzzled Douglas, also folding his arms.

"You'll see eventually. Don't worry." assured Nina with a hint of a smirk on her face.

"Well, what can you tell me about this place? This is the first time I'm hearing about Fazbear's Fright."

Neil began to explain, "You ever went to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza back in the day it was open and running?"

"Yeah, when I little."

"So you know about all the murders and missing children incidents and stuff, right?"

"No... I lived in New York for most of my life. When I came back, I was so busy with my job and setting up house, I didn't have much time to look up old news."

"OK, well, you see, it all started back in 1978 when Fred—"

 _ **BEEP! BEEP!**_

All three turned their attentions rapidly to the source of the sound that sharply cut off Neil, only to see a large black van coming at breakneck speed to where they were standing.

"Is he out of his mind?!" promptly exclaimed Nina, standing in front of Douglas and Neil and waving her arms frantically for the vehicle to stop.

 _ **SKREEEEEEEE!**_

The van came to a screeching halt mere meters from Nina and company; its passengers most definitely reeling from whiplash. Douglas took several discreet deep breaths to bring his heart rate back down to normal.

"What the hell was that all about? Who are these people?" he asked, stepping forward to peer through the van's tinted glass.

The driver's window rolled down and almost instantly the trio's nostrils were assailed with the overpowering scent of marijuana.

 _"_ _Heyyyyyy... wassup dudes and dudette. Me and my bro Peter, were, like, totally riding some double overheads back there! Did you, like, see it?"_

Douglas cringed inwardly and bit his lower lip to keep from grimacing when a stereotypical surfer dude-sounding voice, obviously high as a kite, issued from inside the van and played havoc with his eardrums. A moment later, the voice's owner stepped out and Douglas had to clench his jaw shut to keep his mouth from dropping open.

If there could be one person who embodied every aspect of surfer dudes seen on film and TV, it was this guy. Everything from his mop of peroxide-bleached blond hair to his well-tanned, toned body and the flip-flops that slapped the pavement as he walked closer just screamed, _"Look at me! I surf!"_

Now that he was right in front of Douglas, the latter could not help but notice how much the man reminded him of a younger version of Owen Wilson. With strikingly similar features, bone structure, hairstyle and even the same shade of blue for his eyes; he could almost pass for the actor's twin.

He appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties, and was clad in a pair of sunset orange swim trunks covered with designs of white coconut trees with a black Fazbear's Fright T-shirt pulled over his lean, buff body. A white puka shell necklace encircled his neck, while both wrists had several colourful hemp bracelets fastened round them. A pair of folded sunshades hung from his shirt's neck.

 _"_ _I thought people like this only existed in movies! Who the hell is this idiot?!"_ thought Douglas, unfolding his arms and smiling insincerely when the guy flashed him a row of bleached pearly whites.

"Oh yeah, we saw it alright." confirmed Nina in a sarcastic tone, "We nearly got run over by it, too."

"Sweet!" grinned the surfer dude, turning his twinkling gaze to Douglas whom he towered over at six feet three inches. "Who's the new dude, sistah?"

"This is Douglas Blackburn." Nina relayed. "He's here about the security guard job. Neil called you about it earlier this morning."

"Oh shit, yeah, totally, I remember now." chortled the towhead. "Name's Jason Simpson, bro."

"Wait _you're_ Jason Simpson? _You're_ the owner?" questioned Douglas in a dumbfounded voice.

"The one and only, dude. That's Jason as in J-A-S-O-N." he spelt out with a big shit-eating grin on his face.

"Thanks, I know how to spell "Jason." came the curt remark.

"Sweet." nodded the fake blond.

 _"_ _Don't forget about me, bro!"_ called out another voice from the van.

Douglas turned his focus to see another man heading their way; he was a little shorter than Jason but sported a strong, stocky build with a brown crew cut and dark blue eyes. Whereas Jason Simpson strongly resembled Owen Wilson, this new guy was reminiscent of a less threatening version of the young Biff Tannen from _"_ _Back to the Future"._

"Petey, my man!" hollered Jason joyfully. "Come meet the new dude, Dougie! He wants to work with us!"

"Awesome bro!" simpered Peter, giving Douglas a brofist to which the latter responded accordingly. "Hope you brought your brown pants cus we got some scary shit in there."

"I'm good thanks." Douglas replied, a little annoyed at Jason's patronizing use of the pet form of his name.

"Doug, this is Peter McNamee." introduced Neil, who had remained quiet until now. "He's been helping us set up Fazbear's Fright for the grand opening next week."

"Good to meet you, Peter." acknowledged Douglas, noticing that Peter was dressed identically to Neil but with white high tops instead of the Converses the latter wore.

"Look, if he ever bothers you, Doug, come talk to me." declared Nina, never taking her eyes of her co-worker.

"What do you mean by – ACK!" started Douglas, only to be suddenly put in a playful headlock from behind by Peter who started giving him a hard noogie, much to his chagrin.

"Aww... don't be like that, Nina." mocked Peter, stopping the noogie and hugging Douglas closer with his headlock. "Dougie and I will be best buddies from now on. Won't we Dougie?"

"Yes... just... best... buddies! AARGH!" he struggled.

"Knock it off already." glared Nina with a scowl. "You wanna scare him away or something?"

"Yeah, lay off for a bit, dude." half-ordered half-joked Jason. "Dougie and I gotta talk business."

"OK." said Peter, promptly releasing Douglas who coughed a bit before smoothing his messed up hair.

"So dude, you wanna be my security guard?" asked Jason, leaning against the building's gray wall.

"Well, um yeah, I saw the ad in the paper, but I've never been a security guard before, and I don't really fully understand what this place is all about." replied Douglas as he tucked in his shirt. "You said this was an amusement park... but where are all the rides and stuff? Is it all inside the building?"

"Oh no, bro, that's Phase II of my plan for Fazbear's Fright. We're still on Phase I which is, like, totally nearly complete."

"I see, well, Neil was about to tell me more about this place and Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Something about missing children and murders?"

"Yeah, but let me show you inside. It'll be better that way." said Jason, taking out a ring with three keys from his swim trunks' pocket and pushing one into the metal door's lock.

Douglas turned to Nina, Neil and Peter, "You guys coming?"

Neil shook his head, "Nope. We got a ton of stuff to offload from the van; we'll see you on the outside later."

 _ **GRRROOOOAANNNN...**_ went the weighty door's hinges as Jason pulled the now unlocked entrance open. It was completely dark inside.

 _"_ _Are you ready for Freddy?"_ he prodded in a scary voice often heard in carnival haunted houses.

"Bring it. I'm ready for Freddy."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **One of the things I changed was that instead of (presumably) Jeremy Fitzgerald having those strange dreams of the animatronics at night where he's seeing through Freddy's eyes, I decided to make it so that Douglas was having them for most of his life. There is a very good reason for this and it will become clearer later on as things heat up.**

 **When I wrote the supporting characters, I did it as if I were casting a movie and so I imagined certain Hollywood actors in the roles -**

 **Neil Cave looks like Chace Crawford _,_ Nina Hunte looks like Bridgette Wilson-Sampras _,_** **Peter McNamee resembles Thomas F. Wilson, and Jason Simpson looks like a younger Owen Wilson.  
**

 **As for who Vincent DiCarlo looks like, I will save that for later. ;-)**

 **I hope you all are enjoying the story thus far.**


	5. Welcome to Fazbear's Fright

**Here we go with another chapter. More to come soon!**

* * *

 **Welcome to Fazbear's Fright**

* * *

 **August 19, 2013 – 11:25 AM – Inside Fazbear's Fright**

Douglas Blackburn and Jason Simpson stood inside of a narrow corridor, dimly lit by the eerie illumination of the dull red light of the above EXIT sign. The air was thick and heavy, like it was trying to suffocate the two men, and a stale, musty smell permeated the whole place.

Jason flicked a series of switches in the corner next to the door, and after a few seconds, dim incandescent lightning from naked light bulbs flickered on and off overhead, revealing more of the horror attraction.

The extremely dirty walls and floor were tiled in stained, checkered patterns, obviously the work of many years of grime and dust building up. Torn and tattered sheets of blackened cloth hung suspended from the ceiling along with long cables stretching from corner to corner like snakes and vines that threatened to drop onto unsuspecting strollers. Creepy cartoony drawings of the various Fazbear animatronic characters, obviously done by children, lined the walls, and there was even a large poster of Freddy Fazbear standing next to a pizza right behind Douglas, but they, too, had all yellowed and stained with age.

 ** _RRRRRRRR!_**

There was a low, barely audible humming sound that perked Douglas's attention. He looked around for the source.

"Hey Jason, what's that sound?" he asked.

"Oh that's just, like, the ventilation system, dude." Jason revealed, clicking on a small penlight and pointing the tiny fluorescent beam down to the ground behind Douglas to show a large square vent opening that was uncovered and large enough for a fully grown adult to crawl through. Douglas put his hand in front of it and sure enough, a cool stream of wind was slowly flowing out of the shaft.

"Nice... but why is it uncovered?"

"Dunno. That's just how it is."

"Aren't you afraid of customers crawling inside and getting stuck?"

"No."

Douglas pursued his lips and thought, _"I guess Jason hasn't come down from his high yet. This is a lawsuit waiting to happen..."_

"Come, dude, let me show you the place. I'll take you to where you will, like, work if you want to stay with us." invited Jason, walking down the hall and leaving Douglas behind.

"Yeah, right behind you." followed the twenty-six-year-old, his black shoes thumping on the tiles as he moved to catch up with the surfer wannabe.

They exited the first corridor only to come into another creepy hallway that seemed to act as a vestibule of sorts, since in front of Douglas and Jason were two doorways, one straight ahead and the other at the far left that led into other rooms. Douglas quickly deduced that Fazbear's Fright was a collection of interconnected hallways each showcasing something different, like in a typical haunted house attraction. Clever and practical, but not exactly innovative.

This new hallway featured more drawings and posters, and in the right-hand corner was a mountain of stacked up, gift-wrapped boxes - presents or special prizes for children's birthdays, perhaps. A few feet away from them, right next to a small air vent was the distinctive, faded yellow head of an animatronic chicken with a light flashing intermittently out of both eyes.

It was Chica the chicken: backup singer to Freddy Fazbear and Bonnie the bunny.

"Chica…" recognized Douglas, looking sadly down at the decapitated female chicken. Jason noticed his reaction.

"Sad, isn't it, dude?" he empathized as they passed under a cutout paper streamer of boys and girls holding hands that hung over their heads.

"It is." Douglas affirmed, vaguely remembering the full-bodied Chica on stage twisting this way and that in dance, and singing along with her partners.

"Well at least she has Marionne for company." stated Jason before rubbing his nose.

"Who?" asked Douglas quizzically, looking up at the towhead who then pointed his penlight's tiny beam up next to the left doorway. Douglas focused his eyes in the blanketing darkness to see a ghostly white face that gleamed almost supernaturally in the beam.

It was a mask of some sort that vaguely resembled a Pierrot from a stage pantomime, except that it had purple stripes running down like tears from its empty black eyes and into its smiling, open mouth. Blood red lips and cheeks, painted with perfect precision, contrasted heavily with its black and white colour scheme, but complimented its purple tears.

"Marionne the Marionette," began Jason before explaining, "or the Puppet, as most people called him… or her… I dunno. It gave out prizes from this big music box at the Prize Corner at the old Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. It's been around for a long time."

"But how come I never saw it when I went as a child? It was only Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy that was there." questioned Douglas.

"Dude, there was, like, more than one Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Didn't you, like, know that?"

"Nope. I left Pennsylvania when I was about six."

"Oh, right."

As Jason and Douglas continued their tour through the horror attraction, the latter found himself quite impressed with just how much the surfer dude and the Fazbear's Fright crew managed to acquire and put together for this venue. Each hallway had something different from Fazbear Entertainment's past that had once been part of their ill-fated restaurant chain.

There were retro-looking arcade machines from the 80s and 90s with games like _Dragon's Lair_ , _Pac-Man_ , _Street Fighter II_ and _Mortal Kombat_ and several others lined up in two of the corridors, a few were up and running but only one, _Fredbear and Friends: The Game_ , had a faint blue glow on its cracked screen. Another arcade cabinet in the adjacent hallway had a dirty-looking cupcake on top, which Douglas recognized as being Chica's signature cupcake.

On two of the walls, amongst many kids' drawings and newspaper clippings, there were parts from two of the other animatronics, Bonnie and Foxy, hung carefully from special hooks and fitted with lights in the heads to add to the eerie atmosphere. Underneath Foxy's head was a small button which Douglas pushed at Jason's encouragement, and out blared a deep and raspy pirate-accented voice from a loudspeaker in the red fox's open mouth.

 _"_ _YAAARGHH, ME MATIES, AND WELCOME TO THE PIRATE'S COVE! FREDDY BEST BE GETTIN' BACK TO THE STAGE OR I'LL BE FORCED TO MAKE HIM WALK THE PLANK!"_

Douglas chuckled at the memory of the pirate fox and his playful rivalry with Freddy and how he was everyone's favourite, especially when it came time to tell a story or sing a sea shanty. Jason explained he had found some recordings of the animatronics during their heyday and that in the coming days, he and the others would look to install them in the other animatronic pieces that were recovered.

Continuing on with the tour, Douglas remembered that Jason had not told him about the history of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza nor about the murders and missing children. As they walked closer and closer to the end of the attraction, Douglas turned his head to address him.

"So, um, you said you were going to explain to explain to me about what happened to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza? I was told some people went missing and children died, or something like that?" he spoke up to the man who seemed to have come down somewhat from his high.

"Right bro... well, dude, back in, like, the 70s or so, some dude named Scott Cawthon opened up a totally tubular food hut called Fredbear's Family Diner." Jason began while checking his phone.

"Wait." interrupted Douglas, "Fredbear's Family Diner?"

"Totally. This Scott dude was, like, some kinda genius, man. Fredbear, the diner's mascot and only animatronic was, like, totally epic. It could move around on its own from the stage, serve food, sing and shit like that with only, like, one programming from Scott. Dougie, my man, it was totally ahead of its time." continued Jason with his explanation as they neared another corner.

"So what happened to Fredbear's Family Diner then?" asked Douglas.

"Fredbear's was totally macking, but then in 1980 or so, some kid was murdered outside the place and things went to shit." revealed Jason, "People stopped coming because of, like, the murder and the rumours that Scott Cawthon was behind it. He eventually had to close."

"But what happened to Scott then?'

"He killed himself, man... hung himself from a tree, I think."

"My God... and what about Fredbear and the franchise?"

"Well, some company called MechaMusic, like, bought the rights to all that and then rebranded themselves as Fazbear Entertainment. They used the Scott dude's blueprints and plans for more animatronics, Fredbear's nephew and his band of friends."

"Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy..."

"Right dude... but while they were being developed, there were, like, some other suits as well that could be worn as a costume and used as an animatronic or some shit like that. Fredbear got a partner, a rabbit called Spring Bonnie, and Marionne the Marionette was built for the Prize Corner. But the suits ended up killing some people cus of the bad design."

"How horrible!"

"You got that right, Dougie man."

"So then what happened to the suits?"

"Well, dude, those suits were put away somewhere and the original Fazbear gang was rolled out later that year. Things were fine up until, like, 1986, when five kids went missing and the place was closed for health and sanitation reasons."

"What health and sanitation reasons? Did they ever find the kids or learn what happened to them?"

"Not a thing, dude... as far as I know people complained of a horrible smell, like, something totally died coming from the animatronics. They were, like, opened up many times, but no bodies turned up. Look man, here we are: your new office!"

They were now in an L-shaped corridor that turned sharply to the left at a ninety degree angle and led to what Douglas presumed was the exit, but along the way was a large rectangular window set into the wall that allowed passersby to peer into the room behind it. The room was dark inside when Douglas tried to look through the glass, so he and Jason walked around the corner to the entryway where an empty, half-assembled Freddy Fazbear suit, propped up on a stand with no legs, was situated; Douglas recognized it as the same one whose head was used in the advertisement photo.

The man felt sudden pang of sadness wash over him at seeing what Freddy was reduced to. He didn't mind Bonnie, Chica and Foxy's remains so much, but his old favourite childhood friend was but a pitiful shell of his former, cheerful self, both literally and figuratively. Gone were his limbs, his merry blue eyes, his bowtie and microphone, and most precious of all, his black top hat that only left his head when he was taking a bow after his final performance before closing time. All gone.

"Hi Freddy." whispered Douglas, touching the side of the bear's hollow head, feeling the fur on his palm and remembering the times Freddy came off stage for the kids to hug him. "Remember me?"

There was no answer of course, Douglas did not naively expect one, but Jason chimed in a response.

"It's a pity, dude... if we could've found even, like, one working endoskeleton, I could've maybe had more built for the others... but there was nothing at all. We looked and looked."

Douglas nodded silently before requesting, "Can you show me the office?"

"Sure dude, over here, behind you." beckoned Jason as he stepped through the doorway and into a long, eerily silent room covered in creamy tiles stained from grime and water damage. Strangely, there was no door attached to the frame the men just passed through.

The entire room was fairly dark, and when Jason flicked on the light switch, it took on an eerie greenish-yellow glow. Wires hung down from the ceiling in several places, both inside the room and in the hallway on the other side of the window. There was a large open vent on the far right side of the room like the ones the men had passed repeatedly throughout the attraction, but it was almost hidden in the shadows.

On their left, between the doorway and the window was a cardboard box filled with old animatronic parts and relics Douglas did not recognize except for Foxy's hook-hand. These animatronic parts were much brighter and more colourful in appearance than the characters he remembered from his childhood, but by the same token they all seemed to be the same characters but just updated for some reason.

The animatronic shells in the box appeared to be made of a material like hardened, shiny plastic and featured rosy red, blushed cheeks which gave them a friendlier yet somewhat feminine appearance. There was also the head of a human child animatronic that Douglas could not identify along with a paper-plate cut-out doll of that same animatronic in the box as well.

Turning his attentions to the rest of the office, to the right of the box positioned directly beneath the window was a metal desk with drawers and a faux wooden top that was mostly clear, save for some wadded up paper balls, a soda cup, a four-bladed metal table fan, and three figurines of the main animatronics, Freddy, Bonnie and Chica. To the left of the desk was a waste basket, filled with a few more balled-up papers, and attached to the walls and even the window were several more drawings of the various characters of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

Against the other wall, parallel to the desk a meter or two from it was a rather comfy-looking swivel chair positioned between two slim monitors mounted on stands attached to the floor; both screens were black and neither appeared to have power, and Douglas guessed that this was part of the security system the guard was to use to watch the attraction.

 _"_ _Yeah, Petey bro, I need those posters, like, put up around the city. Everybody, like, must come to my totally radical attraction! It's gonna be, like, totally macking dude!"_

Douglas turned from the chair to notice Jason standing outside the office with his back to him talking away animatedly on his cell phone. He lightly shrugged and thought to himself, "I guess he's really excited about making this place an amusement park. I don't know if he'll be so excited about the backlash though... Wait, what's that?"

In the darkness next to the vent, something caught his eye. It was standing tall and purple and perfectly still in the shadows, not moving as much as an inch to betray its apparent lifelessness. As Douglas inched closer he realized what it was when it came into focus – a mannequin.

The smooth, ghostly white plastic and fiberglass representation of the male human form was propped up against the wall next to the vent as if waiting patiently for someone to strike up a conversation or staring contest with it. It was odd and felt out of place in comparison to the rest of Fazbear's Fright.

Douglas took note of the clothes it was wearing. It appeared to be a uniform of some kind, but whoever wore the mannequin's outfit prior took very good care of their clothes such the colours and quality were so pristine and new-looking that it seemed to be fresh from the tailors. The uniform consisted of a rich purple, short-sleeved button-up shirt and matching tie fastened to the shirt with a gold tiepin and a black pair of slacks held up by a black belt with a gold buckle. On the left breast of the shirt was pinned a golden badge with the words **"Security Guard"** etched onto its surface, and perched on the mannequin's head was a peaked cap with the same shade of purple for the flat sloping crown and black for the band and visor; a gold cap badge was displayed on the front.

The uniform itself was remarkably nice and clean cut for just a simple pizzeria, but placed on the mannequin, there was just something so creepy about the inanimate life form that stood so unassumingly in a place dedicated to horror and mystery. It unnerved Douglas; he could not figure out why, but still reached his hand forward to touch the uniform.

When his light brown fingers brushed against the plum fabric, Douglas felt a sudden jolt inside of his head accompanied by a flash of white light that blanketed his surroundings. In that moment, he was no longer in Fazbear's Fright, but in a dark recess someplace in time and space, and he was not alone.

When his vision came into focus, Douglas realized that he was short, very short... like a small child's height. He gasped when he next realized that the clothed mannequin was no longer a mannequin, but instead was transformed into a man that stood towering like a skyscraper over his newly shrunken self.

Douglas's eyes traveled apprehensively up his legs that wore the black pants, further and further up until he could see the man standing with his white-skinned arms akimbo in a triumphant-like pose as if to say, _"I got you now!"_ But as Douglas got to his face, he was surprised to see that half of it was obscured by dark shadow and he could not see his eyes, nose or forehead. However, a huge and dimpled smile bearing a full set of pearly whites spread itself widely across the man's face, further emphasizing the slight cleft in his chin and pulling his lips thin.

The smile unsettled Douglas, for it seemed more like a sneer and felt almost perverse in nature, and the teeth looked like they would open up at any second and tear him to pieces.

He opened his mouth to speak to the man, "Who ar—"

 _"_ _Hey, Dougie man, I see you, like, totally found our old security guard!"_

Jason Simpson's surfer dude voice snapped Douglas back to reality in Fazbear's Fright with the mysterious man gone from sight. The whole experience must have lasted no more than a couple of seconds.

Douglas blinked furiously and shook his head before responding, "Your old security guard?"

"Yeah dude, no one was, like, taking the job even with all the serious cheddar I was offering. So we were gonna, like, go with a dummy dressed as a Fazbear security guard in this office, so people will look in through the window and see what the other guards went through. But now we have you, bro!" explained Jason, now standing beside Douglas.

"Went through?" emitted Douglas, turning to face him.

"Say man, you never did tell me why you wanna be my security guard?" interjected Jason, ignoring Douglas's question.

"Well, long story short, after my parents died when I was twenty-one, I moved back to Pennsylvania from New York and landed a job at the Weekend Variety Magazine as a proofreader and editor." Douglas explained, pausing to take a breath before continuing, "I was there for five years until we came under new management. Next thing I knew, ten of us were given pink slips and told we were being made redundant, and now, here I am."

"That sucks man." sympathized Jason, to which Douglas waved it off with a gesture of his hand.

"Don't worry about it. I did my job to the best of my ability, never once got in trouble or reprimanded. I have no regrets. As far as I'm concerned, it's their loss." he professed, still slightly angry over what happened.

"Well, dude, I think you will be totally great for Fazbear's Fright! You on board, bro?" solicited Jason, flashing another cheesy smile.

"I just have one last question, though." prodded Douglas with his arms folded, "I think you've done a good job with this place and all, but don't you think this whole setup... the concept, that is, is in very, very bad taste?"

"What do you mean by that, dude?" Jason questioned in puzzlement.

"Well, with all the disappearances and murders that went on years ago at the restaurants, I'm sure the families of the victims are still grieving in pain. Won't you be, you know, compounding their loss and suffering by opening up a place that exploits and cashes in on the tragedies?"

"No." came the blunt reply without one ounce of concern.

"But don't y—" he started again before being cut off.

"Look man, everyone has, like, their own way of dealing with, like, loss and shit like that, and that's fine, dude. More power to them. But that had nothing to do with me. And if I, like, totally make a few dollars along the way, then more power to me." professed the tall blond, checking his phone again.

 _"_ _What an asshole!"_ fumed Douglas internally.

Jason spoke again, "You don't have to, like, work here if you don't want to, bro. You're not doing me a favour. But the job's still open; take it or leave it."

Douglas found himself caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, it disgusted him that Jason was running such an operation without any sympathy or regard for the families of the deceased or the franchise's tragic history. But on the other hand, the bills at home were not going to pay themselves and what little savings he had left in the bank would not last him forever.

With a deep sigh, Douglas looked Jason straight in his blue eyes and deadpanned his acceptance.

"I'm in." he confirmed, extending his hand.

"Aww sweet dude! You're totally awesome!" jumped Jason for joy and not only shook Douglas's hand hard, but yanked him forward into a tight hug.

"Yeah... urf! Thanks..." stifled Douglas.

"Oh shit, sorry man." apologized Jason with a chuckle, releasing Douglas. "Ah and before I forget... sign this, dude."

Jason reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper before handing it to Douglas who unfolded it before adding, "It's your contract, Dougie man. Nothing big, really. Just that you will commit yourself to, like, the first full week here and that you agree not to disclose anything about Fazbear's Fright until, like, the attraction opens. You down with that?"

"I'm down with that." agreed Douglas, signing the dotted line with one swift motion and handing the document back to Jason. The job was his now. No turning back.

"Tubular!" declared Jason, hurriedly stuffing the contract back in his pocket. "Sorry to chase you out now, dude, but I gotta shut shop now. I have a prior engagement."

"Sure thing and thanks for the job."

"Don't sweat it, man. Tell Nina to give you a security guard uniform and remember, you start work here at 12 AM on the dot. Got it?'

"Got it."

As they stepped out through the exit door, both had to momentarily cover their eyes from the powerful midday sun. Douglas checked his watch: 12:46 PM, they had been in there for just over an hour. They looked and saw that Neil Cave, Nina Hunte and Peter McNamee were just outside the exit with the van and were offloading boxes filled with relics from Fazbear Entertainment's past.

"Here's my number, dude, in case you need to call me for anything." said Jason, handing him a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it.

"277-4653... got it. Thanks."

"Later, Dougie man."

"Take care."

And with that, Jason Simpson hopped into the black van with Peter McNamee, which now had all the boxes unloaded, and sped off. The annoyingly catchy tunes of " _We Like to Party"_ by the Vengaboys started blaring unabashedly through the vehicle's windows.

 ** _"_** ** _The Vengabus is coming,_**

 ** _And everybody's jumping,_**

 ** _New York to San Fransisco,_**

 ** _An intercity disco,_**

 ** _The wheels of steel are turning,_**

 ** _And traffic lights are burning,_**

 ** _So if you like to party_**

 ** _Get on and move your body!"_**

Douglas made a face and sighed, "Ughh... can this day get any weirder?"

 _"_ _Quite a character, isn't he?"_

Douglas momentarily jumped at the voice of Nina, who had walked up behind him to watch the spectacle of late 90s sentimentality amble noisily away.

"You can say that again." scoffed Douglas before asking in somewhat of a snide manner, "But how does someone like him come to own a place like this? How is he able to afford such a venture when the movie _Bio-Dome_ seems to have been his primary source of education?"

"Easy." answered Nina, sweeping her blond ponytail off her shoulder. "His dad is Felix Simpson, a top executive at ExxonMobil. He's fucking loaded, Doug, believe it or not."

"She's right." piped up Neil Cave, joining the two, "Mansions, yachts, polo clubs, private jets, Ivy League... Jason's been through it all."

"Well, he's really come down in the world." remarked Douglas incredulously, "Shouldn't he be working with his dad at ExxonMobil or something? Why do this of all things?"

"I think he once said he wants to prove to his dad he can be a success outside of the oil business or something like that." suggested Neil.

"And acting like a surfer dude-stoner hippie-Steve Stifler knockoff is going to help him achieve that success?" queried a skeptical Douglas.

Neil shrugged before replying, "Well, he must be doing something right because he's gotten this far already."

"But how did you guys come to work for him? I mean, given the past history of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, isn't this all kinda like if someone made a horror attraction for profit dedicated to the murder of JonBenét Ramsey or the killings of Ian Brady and Myra Hindley? Don't you think this is all wrong somehow?" beseeched Douglas.

"Simple." answered Nina, "Principles don't take care of the bills and put food on the table. I have my student loans to pay off, and you'd be surprised how short in demand qualified personal bankers are."

"She's right, Doug. As for me, the entry-level salary for an architect sucks and you work more hours for less pay. Add to that, my ex cancelled our wedding at the last possible minute and I got stuck with the bill. At $50 an hour, I'm willing to look the other way with this place." divulged Neil, "What about you, Doug?"

"I got made redundant at my old job, and my savings are running low. Like Nina, I have to pay the bills and eat." replied Douglas before querying, "And what about Peter?"

"He and Jason are old high school buddies." said Nina. "Jason's dad pulled some strings so Peter could go to UPenn with his son, and Peter jumped at the chance to work with his old partner in crime."

"I see... oh, before I forget, I signed the contract to be the security guard here. Jason told me to ask you about getting a uniform." notified Douglas.

"Sure thing, Doug, and welcome aboard. Just gimme one sec." requested Nina, quickly eyeing the multiracial man up and down momentarily to ascertain his size, before heading over to the cardboard boxes on the ground and opening one.

Douglas turned to face Neil, "Say Neil, um, Jason was telling me a bit about the history of Fazbear Entertainment and the deaths and the missing children. Do you know anything else about it or anyone connected with it?" he questioned, recalling the weird vision of the purple-clad man he had in the office.

"Oh yeah, lots." confirmed the taller man, checking his watch. "But I really don't have much time right now to tell you. Nina and I gotta get back to the storage unit. We all found something special on Saturday we want to surprise Jason with."

"What would that be?" asked Douglas, tilting his head in curiosity to which Neil smirked.

"Can't tell you yet, but you'll see very soon." he transmitted cryptically before getting back to Douglas's request. "We have a big file on the history of everything concerning Fazbear Entertainment as well as Scott Cawthon and the original Diner. I'll leave it for you in one of the desk drawers in the office; it'll be in there when you get to work tonight."

"Gracias." acknowledged Douglas just as Nina strolled over with a plastic bag in her right hand.

"OK. Here's your uniform, it should fit you alright." she said handing the bag to him along with a single brass key. "In case none of us are here when you come to start work, use this to get in and lock up behind you. It's for your safety as well as the building's."

"Thanks Nina." smiled Douglas, pocketing the key. "I should probably get going now and let you and Neil go too. I'm gonna hit the sack when I get home."

"Cool. Sounds like a plan." agreed Neil, slipping his hands in his hoodie's pockets. "We'll see you a little before 12 tonight OK?"

"Of course. Anyway, it was great to meet you guys. So take care and see you later!" said Douglas as he waved and departed from Fazbear's Fright, leaving Neil and Nina to issue their goodbyes in response.

As he strode briskly across the cracked pavement to exit through the front gate, the feelings of reservation he had earlier still played on his mind, as if his emotions had manifested into someone that wagged a finger at him in an act of disappointed reprimanding. Douglas could not help but feel a bit guilty, but he told himself over and over again that he had no choice and the money was too good to pass up. He was going to make this work one way or another.

Behind, the Fazbear's Fright sign soared imposingly over Douglas and bathed him in its clutching veil of dark history and hidden horrors. And the silhouetted shadowy figures of Freddy Fazbear and Company leered with their ruby eyes and malicious grins of painted white in silent vigil.

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **And there we have the newest chapter. I hope you liked how I described the inside of Fazbear's Fright and the little backstory I added to the founding of the franchise. More will be revealed in the next chapter.**

 **I know you might be thinking that the story is kinda slow so far, but I have to say that it is going to be a long one, so there is going to be build up and the introduction of necessary plot elements before the real action. I was inspired by classic slashers like Halloween (1978), Black Christmas (1974) and Prom Night (1981) that started off slow and built it up to the terrifying horror sequences.**

 **That said, I must give credit to WellHeyProductions for giving me permissions to use some of his lines from FNAF videos. To me, he nails the Foxy character so well that I honestly can't picture anyone else doing the voice, not even David Near (except for the Nightmare version of the pirate fox). So thank you very much, WHP, I am truly grateful. :-)**

 **Also, yes, Scott Cawthon is going to be in the story in later chapters in a pretty interesting way.**

 **Until next time!**


	6. Night 1

**And so begins Doug's first night on the job...  
**

* * *

 **Night 1**

* * *

 **August 19, 2013 – 11:30 PM – Outside Fazbear's Fright**

Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction was scarier at night. There was no two ways about it.

Douglas Blackburn, now dressed in a security guard's uniform identical to the one worn by the mannequin from earlier, stood hesitantly outside the open chain link gates and looked apprehensively at the enormous lit sign.

While the gray, decrepit building resting on a bed of broken and weed-choked asphalt invoked the image of a neglected cemetery, Nyx's shadowy veil that was the night sky swaddled the surroundings in inky darkness, enhancing and magnifying the property's chilling spookiness tenfold.

The compound's paved front lot was now a sea of pitch black with only the flickering beacons of two lampposts offering weak assistance to those looking to navigate wearily across its flat depths. A lone fluorescent light revealed the building's front door while above it all, the sign for Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction gleamed garishly to announce its arrival to the world of haunted houses and urban legends.

The sign's dripping slime green letters glowed in a pulsating rhythm as if alive, while the gory pizza pie was lit up to better show off the human components that garnished the circular flatbread. The white teeth and red eyes of the silhouetted phantom animatronics were the only parts of them that were illuminated on the wide and ostentatious sign; it made Douglas feel cold all over despite his black jacket.

"Come on, Douglas, it's just a sign. Suck it up!" he muttered to himself with a huff before striding determinedly across the former parking lot.

Preferring to avoid the scenic route through attraction's many corridors Douglas made his way round to the back entrance where he and Jason Simpson exited hours earlier. When he did, he was pleasantly surprised to find Neil Cave and Nina Hunte there with the Fazbear's Fright van ready for departure.

"Hey guys! Douglas Blackburn reporting for duty!" chirped Douglas with a corny salute to which Neil and Nina turned and gave a light chuckle.

"Hi Doug, good to see you're on time!" greeted Neil before asking, "Ready for your first night at Fazbear's Fright?"

"You betcha!" grinned Douglas with obvious mock enthusiasm, "Who wouldn't want to spend a night in a building with killer animatronic parts?"

"See, I knew the uniform was just the right size." observed Nina while her co-worker smirked at Douglas's sarcasm. "You look good in it."

"Thanks Nina. Say, where's Peter and Jason?" said Douglas, looking around for the surfer dude and his second banana.

"Probably in Peter's basement getting high and playing beer pong." speculated Neil, pulling back his hood and revealing his brown hair. "I told Peter to keep Jason distracted as long as possible for tonight."

"Oh? How come?" questioned Douglas, furrowing his brow in curiosity.

"Remember how I told you that we found something special for Jason on Saturday that we wanted to surprise him with?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it's nearly ready for him to see... we got it at the abandoned Freddy Fazbear's Pizza by the woods."

"Really now? I take it that's where you got most of the stuff you have set up inside, right?"

"A good bit of it. We searched other locations as well, but there was nothing like this, Doug."

"Can you tell me what it is now?"

"Not yet, we want to show Jason first. He's been going on and on and on about Fazbear's Fright needing a star... well, we have his star."

"Interesting..."

"You should be getting inside now; it's nearly 12 and we gotta get going. The file I mentioned is in the top desk drawer."

"Sure and thanks, Neil. Talk to you later!"

"Any time, Doug."

"Take it easy, Doug, and don't forget to lock the door behind you with the key. We'll padlock the outer gate when we roll out of here." cautioned Nina as she walked towards the van and opened the front passenger's door.

"Got it. Bye Nina!"

Both waving goodbye, Neil and Nina departed in the black van, the vehicle's blocky outline camouflaging seamlessly in the dark night and its red taillights fading ominously into the blackness like a demonic creature retreating into its shadowy lair.

With one last look at the building, Douglas turned and pulled open the door and stepped undauntedly inside Fazbear's Fright; the lock's sharp click being the only sound to interrupt the peaceful night.

* * *

 **11:52 PM – Inside Fazbear's Fright**

Now seated comfortably in his swivel chair, Douglas looked around his office with unease at the decor and realized how much more unsettling the attraction was now that he was all alone without Jason for company. Only the constant humming of the ventilation system pumping out fresh air and the metal desk fan spinning away to circulate it disrupted the spookily quiet ambience and distracted Douglas from the foreboding isolation.

"Well, here I am now. Better get started on this file..." he determined, looking down at the four-inch thick folder that rested on his lap; it was heavy and filled with numerous newspaper clippings and magazine cut-outs collected throughout the years, there were also articles printed from online sources along with various other bits and pieces. The makeshift archive was tied together with a long piece of purple ribbon.

Just as Douglas undid the bow, the phone on the desk in front of him rang loudly and startled the novice security guard.

 ** _RIIIIINNNNG! RIIIINNNNG!_**

Pulling his wheeled chair forward to the desk, he looked at the Cisco IP phone positioned at the far corner of the desk and noticed the number on the display.

277-4653 – Jason Simpson's cell number.

Douglas pressed the small speaker button adjacent to the dial pad and listened to what his boss had to say.

 _"_ _Hey-Hey! Glad you decided to stay with us, Dougie man!"_ issued Jason Simpson's surfer dude voice from the tiny speaker.

Douglas opened his mouth to reply, "Yeah, hi Jason. Thank you once again fo— " but he was cut off without warning by the elated pot smoker.

 _"_ _Dude, I promise your first night's gonna be very interesting. We found some-some great new relics over the weekend. And the gang's out tracking down a new lead, right now."_ he continued as if he had not heard his newest employee.

Douglas raised an eyebrow and observed, "Hmmm... must be something Jason pre-recorded and timed to play when I got here."

He reclined in his seat and listened some more.

 _"_ _So-uh lemme just update real quick, then you can get to work. Like, the attraction opens in like, a week, so we had to make sure everything works, and nothing catches on fire!"_

"Wait... _'catches on fire'_?" uttered Douglas, stiffening up in the chair. There was no mention of this!

 _"_ _Uh-when the place opens, people will come in at the opposite end of the building, and work their way towards you, then past you and out the exit. Uh-yeah. You've officially become a part of the attraction. Uh-You'll be starring as... The security guard! So not only will you be monitoring the people on the cameras as they pass through, y'know, to make sure no one steals anything or makes out in the corner, but you'll also be a part of the show. It'll make it feel really authentic I think."_

"Thanks, but you already told me all of this..." fussed Douglas. "Or did the pot make you forget everything so soon?"

 _"_ _Uh... Now let me tell you about what's new. We found another set of drawings, always nice, and a Foxy head! Which we think to be authentic... then again it might just be another crappy cosplay, and we found a desk fan, very old school - metal, though, so watch the fingers."_

"No shit, Sherlock." griped the annoyed employee, checking his watch. It was 12:17 am. "Is it just me or is this message really dragging on?"

 _"_ _Uh-heh... Uh... Right now the place is basically just, you know, flashing lights, spooky props. Uh, I honestly thought we would have more by now, uh, we don't have something really cool by next week, we may have to suit you up in a furry suit, and make you walk around saying,_ "Boo!" _... hehe, uh... But, you know, like I said, we're trying to track down a good lead right now."_

"I'm telling you from now there's no way I'm putting on some furry suit! I didn't sign up for this!"

 _"_ _Uh, so Peter's having me over by his place for the night for beer and smokes, and shit like that. So, I'm gonna, like, head over to him now and meet up with the other two later at the storage unit. Uh, for now just get comfortable with the new setup, um... You can check the security cameras over to your right with a click of that blue button. Uh, you can toggle between the hall cams and the vent cams..."_

"Vent cams?" wondered Douglas aloud. "Who the hell puts cameras in air vents? Unless he took what I said about people crawling inside seriously after all..."

 _"_ _Uh, then over to your far left, uh, you can flip up your maintenance panel. Y'know, use this to reboot any systems that may go offline. Heh. So, in trying to make the place feel vintage we may have overdone it a bit, hehe... Some of this equipment is barely functional."_

"Seriously?" said Douglas raising his eyebrow yet again.

 _"_ _Yeah, I wasn't joking about the fire. Tha-tha-that's a real risk. Uh, the most important thing you want to watch for is the ventilation. Look, this place will give you the spooks, man, and if you let that ventilation go offline, then you'll start seeing some crazy stuff, man. Keep that air flowin'."_

"I started seeing crazy stuff the moment I laid eyes on _you_ , Mr. Simpson." snarked Douglas with a roll of his brown eyes.

 _"_ _Okay, keep an eye on things, and we'll try to have something new for ya tomorrow night."_

And with that, there was a disconnecting click and the line went silent.

"What have I gotten myself into?" sighed Douglas with a shake of his head. "Well, I better check out this security system before I start to read."

Douglas then pushed his swivel chair back from the desk until it was positioned between the two stands with the monitors. He immediately noticed a single button positioned directly beneath each monitor on their respective stand, orange for the left and blue for the right. He pressed the blue button and the left monitor, for the security cameras, suddenly swung forward with a light creaking sound in a door-like manner to position itself directly in front of Douglas's face.

Though it was not very big, being approximately twelve by nine inches, the monitor nonetheless filled up most of his vision and made it difficult to turn his chair to see the other monitor or much of anything else. The black screen flickered to life, followed by a low and constant crackling sound; the twenty-six-year-old groaned in disbelief at the sight before him.

While the monitor and maintenance panel setup was very top-of-the-line and modern-looking, the video feed was beyond atrocious. The live image was blanketed with a haze of static dancing wildly over the screen with the hissing sound that usually accompanied static continually crackling from the little speakers.

"Really? The man's a friggin billionaire and all he can afford are these shitty cameras?" grumbled Douglas as he cycled through each of the security camera feeds marked off on a little map on the right-hand corner of the screen that he could press.

Sure enough every security camera was fizzing with static.

There were two little touch screen buttons beside the map of Fazbear's Fright; one titled " **Play Audio** " and " **Map Toggle** ". Douglas pressed the second button and was rewarded with a hazy view of one of the vent cams, "Figures..." he said when he checked through all of them before toggling back to the regular map. He then pressed the first button.

 _"_ _Hello!"_ chimed a chirpy male child's voice.

Douglas looked around and pressed it again after a few moments.

 _"_ _Hi!"_ it came again.

"Hmmmm... I guess I'll probably be playing this when people are walking through the place." he deduced after pressing it a final time, only to be rewarded with a high-pitched laugh. "I wonder which animatronic this came from? Probably that little boy's head in the box..."

Flipping back his security camera monitor, he turned to press the orange button for the maintenance panel. It flipped up to cover his view of the door to his left and green letters on a black background appeared and spelt out a task menu:

 **system restart menu  
**

 **audio devices**

 **camera system**

 **ventilation**

 **reboot all**

 **exit**

Everything seemed in order, so Douglas opted not to bother with it again and closed the screen down to reveal the open doorway with the crudely reassembled Freddy animatronic shells positioned outside.

With a shrug, Douglas turned his focus to the folder still on his lap. "Well, still got five-and-a-half hours in this place... better get started on this now." he said after checking the time and then pulling out his iPod and plugging in the earphones before switching to his favourite playlist.

"This is gonna be a long night." said Douglas wearily, opening the folder while the first song began to play.

 ** _"_** ** _Nights in white satin,_**

 ** _Never reaching the end,_**

 ** _Letters I've written,_**

 ** _Never meaning to send._**

 ** _Beauty I'd always missed_**

 ** _With these eyes before,_**

 ** _Just what the truth is_**

 ** _I can't say anymore..."_**

Douglas picked up the first article dated January 13th, 1978. It read:

 **IT LIVES! HARRISBURG'S GEPETTO CREATES HIS VERY OWN PINOCCHIO!**

 _Local inventor and visionary extraordinaire, Scott Cawthon, has done the impossible!_

 _Braving cold January winter, Cawthon, aged 44, unveiled his masterpiece to the world: Fredbear!_

Beneath the opening words was a large black and white photograph of a grinning, average-looking man with a receding hairline and aquiline nose wearing a suit and tie and standing proudly beside a waving animatronic that dwarfed him.

 _"_ _Fredbear..."_ mouthed Douglas, examining the photograph.

Fredbear bore a striking resemblance to Freddy in terms of appearance and the fact that he wore a top hat and bow-tie, and held a microphone in his right hand. But unlike Freddy, his nephew who came along later, the overall colours of the bear animatronic's hat, bow-tie and body fur were lighter in shade and he sported two black buttons on his chest. His large eyes were wider than Freddy's while his arms and legs seemed thicker as well; a squarish nose, rounder ears, and a very circular-shaped stomach further differentiated the two bears' designs.

The article continued:

 _Fredbear, an unparalleled feat of years of engineering and complex programming managed to astound all who came to see his "birth". Fully automated with an innovative power system and programmed with one-of-a kind software, the bipedal animatronic showed no need to be bolted to a stage by demonstrating his walking capabilities, and he was able to recognise and avoid obstacles placed in his path to show off the power of his artificial intelligence._

 _Mr. Cawthon shared with reporters his inspiration for creating such a marvel of robotic engineering._

 _"_ _Pinocchio was my favourite Disney movie growing up and I always held on to my dream of one day making a life-size puppet that could move without strings. Now, nearly forty years and three Masters later, Fredbear is a reality!"_

 _As if to boost his creator's point, Fredbear then launched into a clever rendition of "I've Got No Strings" to a round of amazed applause from the crowd; proving that magic does not just exist in fairytales._

 _What are Mr. Cawthon's plans for the future? A career working for the military? NASA? Disneyland?_

 _According to the man himself, "Fredbear is meant to bring joy and laughter to everyone of all ages. This year I'm going to be opening a restaurant and Fredbear is going to be the star!"_

"This Scott Cawthon fellow was amazing to be able to create something like this." admired Douglas, setting aside the clipping. "He'd be so sad to see what his ideas have become now... nothing but a damn freak show."

Frowning, Douglas shifted in his chair and pushed on with his reading; there was still a lot more to catch up on.

* * *

 **August 20 - 3:24 AM**

It was nearly 3:30 in the morning when Douglas yawned and stretched his tired muscles. Despite all the binge reading, he was only halfway through the folder.

Most of the articles so far focused on the opening up of the first three restaurants in the troubled franchise, with much emphasis placed on the state of the art animatronics present at each incarnation. But as the years passed, the tone grew darker and more sensationalistic, especially when the first set of deaths occurred.

Among the old menus, fliers, and articles that gushed praised at the animatronics' designs and innovative programming, Douglas managed to extract several clippings that were of particular interest to him.

 **CHILD SLAYING AT FREDBEAR'S FAMILY DINER PROMPTS INVESTIGATION!**

 **DID HE DO IT? OWNER OF FREDBEAR'S FAMILY DINER UNDER SCRUTINY.**

 **DEAD! SCOTT CAWTHON LYNCHES SELF IN SUICIDE.**

 **FREDBEAR'S FAMILY DINER TO GET NEW LIFE UNDER NEW OWNERSHIP. NEW ANIMATRONICS INTRODUCED.**

 **BLOODSHED AT FREDBEAR'S FAMILY DINER! NEW SPRINGLOCK SUITS FAIL CATASTROPHICALLY!**

 **GRAND OPENING! NEW RESTAURANT SEES DEBUT OF FREDDY FAZBEAR AND COMPANY!**

 **MISSING! FIVE CHILDREN DISAPPEAR AT POPULAR PIZZERIA!**

From these selected bits, Douglas was able to piece together the story from Fredbear's Family Diner's opening in 1978 up until the year 1986 when the first missing children incident occurred.

On July 10th of 1980, during a birthday party, a nine-year-old boy named Adam Kilbride was found lying dead near the front of Fredbear's Family Diner with multiple stab wounds to his throat and shoulders. The stabbings were so vicious in nature, the coroner determined, that the victim bled out and died in less than thirty seconds.

Investigators soon named Scott Cawthon himself as a person of interest in their hunt for the perpetrator, owing to the fact that traces of the victim's blood was found on his car's back seat and that several peculiar photographs taken from afar of Adam Kilbride were found during a search of his office. With his business fast losing money and customers, Cawthon vigorously denied any involvement in little Adam's death, but his guilt was seemingly affirmed when he hung himself from a tree on his property in an apparent suicide.

Soon after, MechaMusic, a company specializing in children's entertainment, purchased the intellectual property rights to Fredbear and all future animatronic characters and designs from Scott's widow, Mary Doyle Cawthon, and promptly renamed themselves ' _Fazbear Entertainment_ '. While plans were underway to introduce Freddy Fazbear and the rest of the now familiar gang, three animatronics - a newly redesigned Fredbear, a golden rabbit named 'Spring Bonnie' and 'Marionne the Marionette' - were set up at the diner's new location.

The Fredbear and Spring Bonnie's designs were unique in that they could double as both an animatronic and a suit for a performer to wear through a secret process called "springlocking". But there was a horrific accident, where, in full view of the restaurant's patrons, a disastrous failure of the springlock mechanisms caused two employees named Tony Weatherhead and Miguel Peña to be brutally impaled and dismembered by the built-in endoskeletons. The springlock suits were retired permanently and Fredbear's Family Diner never opened its doors again.

Fast forward a year later in 1981 when Freddy Fazbear's Pizza opened up and introduced audiences to Fredbear's nephew, Freddy Fazbear, that sang as the lead singer in _'The Fazbears'_ band along with Bonnie the bunny (who was coincidentally Spring Bonnie's nephew as well) and Chica the chicken, while another side attraction, Captain Foxy of the Pirate Cove, starred as the sometimes antagonist to _The Fazbears_ who continually plotted to steal Freddy's songs to create his own band.

Business boomed for the next five years, but it all came crashing down when five children disappeared on March 11th of 1986. Megan Klaas, Keith Dunahee, Judith Anthony, Daniel Beaumont and Charles Ramsey, all aged between seven and nine went missing from the restaurant late in the evening during an extra large and crowded birthday celebration. Despite a thorough search of the pizzeria and the surrounding area, nothing turned up except one of Judith Anthony's hair barrettes and a smear of Keith Dunahee's blood on a bathroom wall.

All five were presumed dead and when rumours of their bodies being stuffed in the animatronic suits persisted, no remains were found when Freddy and his friends were opened up for inspection following complaints of an awful smell. No suspect was ever named and the case remained unsolved with the restaurant closing down within the year.

"I think that's enough reading for tonight." declared Douglas, putting the folder back into his desk's drawer and standing up to walk around the office to stretch his legs.

"I wonder if Scott Cawthon was really behind Adam Kilbride's death." he mused, sitting back down in his chair to cycle through the cameras once more.

Nothing.

"Or is Adam's killer responsible for that missing children incident as well? Either way, it's really fucked up that someone could do that to a kid." condemned Douglas with a sleepy yawn, pulling the chair up to the desk. "God, my eyes are killing me! Let me just... rest them... for a few minutes... hmmm..."

With arms folded on the desk, Douglas laid down his increasingly heavy-feeling head and drifted off into dreamland. The soft whirring of the fan gently lulled him to sleep with its white noise while Freddy's empty remains vigilantly kept watch over his old friend.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I do hope you liked the backstory I created for Fredbear's Family Diner and the origins of Fazbear Entertainment. Let's just say there is a very good, albeit disturbing reason as to why Adam Kilbride's blood was found on the back seat of Scott's car. I also condensed the timeline a bit for storytelling purposes, and the names of the child victims are taken from real life missing or murdered children; see if you could figure out which ones.  
**

 **Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter and if you have the time, please review. I don't mind too much if you don't, but it would be nice to get some feedback and to see what you think.**


	7. A Sudden Blast of Purple

**A Sudden Blast of Purple**

* * *

 **July 29, 1993 – 12:45 PM – Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

"Hey everyone!"

"Hello boys and girls!"

"Hi everybody! Hu hu-ha ha ha!"

 _Six-year-old Dougie Blackburn looked towards the glittering stage and smiled happily at his favourite bear in the whole wide world. The other children around him froze excitedly in captivated attention when the colourful trio of animatronic animals began to speak in their booming voices filled with giddy glee._

 _He was back. Back at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza_

"Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza." _greeted Freddy Fazbear, swivelling rigidly left and right with a wave of his hand and nod of his heavy head._

 _Chica next spoke up in a light, girlish voice,_ "I'm Chica! Let's eat!" _she winked and then raised her cupcake on a platter as if giving a toast._

"I'm your best friend, Bonnie bunny here!" _piped up the purple rabbit, bobbing his head and segmented rabbit ears at the children down below._

"And everyone knows me... Freddy Fazbear! Hee hee hee hee!" _giggled Freddy, wiggling his round ears and stepping forward on the stage._

 _Little Dougie giggled excitedly and jumped up and down in his red shirt and white overall shorts for the big brown bear._ "Yay Freddy!" _he cheered, giving a little fistpump._

"Is everybody having a good time cus I sure know that I am!" _beamed Bonnie, turning back and forth and blinking his red glass eyes at everyone seated at the dining tables._

"YYYEEEESSSS!" _rang out a joyful chorus of tykes and toddlers at the robot band, who nodded their approval._

"You know what, boys and girls? I could use some more pizza!" _said Chica, now facing Freddy._

"There's plenty of delicious pizza when you're at Freddy's Pizzeria, Chica!" _responded the lead singer, making a sweeping gesture with his microphone._

 _Dougie climbed back on to his black vinyl stool and swept a clump of his moppy brown hair off his forehead before taking a big bite of his Hawaiian pizza. He always loved the taste of pineapple and ham together, and the pieces of meat were cut awesomely into shapes of musical notes, further enhancing the musical flair of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza._

"You can't live off of pizza all the time, Freddy." _pointed out Bonnie with a chuckle._

"YOU CAN'T?!" _exclaimed a dumbstruck Freddy and Chica._

 _Dougie did not bother paying attention any further to this part. The lesson about eating plenty of green vegetables and carrots bored him many times before; but he turned his head from his slice to see what his other friends were doing._

 _He saw them now - all five of them._

 _The quintet of kids stood in a group together at the far right corner of the stage looking up at the Fazbear crew playing out their programmed routine. The lone girl was idly twirling one of her girlish pigtails with a finger while a boy was bobbing his black-skinned head side to side humming a song. Two others, a Middle Eastern boy and a Caucasian one were lost in a conversation and the last boy, a redhead, was picking his nose waiting for the show to begin._

 _Dougie perked up at the sight of his friends and quickly finished his slice of greasy pizza, wiping his hands on the napkin and hopping down onto the blue and red checked floor. As his white sneakers hit the smooth tiles, Freddy Fazbear and company continued the show._

"Hey Chica?" _called the lavender leporid to his yellow feathered friend._

"Yeah Bonnie?" _answered back Chica moving her midsection to look at her friend._

"You know what I do to have fun?"

"Is it the games?"

"Nope!"

"Is it the Pirate's Cove?"

"Not even close!"

"Well, what is it Bonnie?" _interjected Freddy, turning his head side to side as he surveyed the audience._

"I like to sing!" _revealed Bonnie letting loose a happy chortle and holding up his red and white electric guitar._

 _Dougie paused and watched the exchange,_ "I wonder what song they will sing now?" _he asked himself, knowing the vast array of music_ _'The Fazbears'_ _had at their disposal._

"Oh, why didn't you say so?" _gushed Freddy, stepping back to align himself with his mechanical co-stars._ "Let's rock out the band with _'Purple People Eater'_!

"Purple People Eater?! You remember that one?!" _emitted Bonnie in slight disbelief with another twitch of his ears just as familiar music poured out of hidden speakers, and the mounted pizza decorations on the walls began to spin like they always did during musical numbers._

"Sure do! Ready Chica?" _nodded Freddy to his female backup singer as the three of them all fell into their pre-programmed jerky, side-to-side movements, while spotlight beams of yellow, purple and green flashed and swirled across the stage and its automated performers._

"One... two... one!" _started Chica._

"Two!" _added Bonnie, lifting his arm to play his instrument._

"Three!" _chirped Chica once more._

"Four!" _finished Freddy before singing into his microphone._

 ** _"_** ** _Well I saw the thing comin' out of the sky  
It had the one long horn, one big eye  
I commenced to shakin' and I said "ooh-eee"  
It looks like a purple eater to me!"_**

"Come on, kids! Sing along!" _the bear invited with a friendly beckon of his free hand._

 _As Dougie made his way across the dining area to the stage where his friends hopped up and down and waved for him to come over, the other kids all jumped in at the chorus._

 ** _"_** ** _It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater_**

 ** _(One-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater)_**

 ** _A one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater_**

 ** _Sure looks strange to me_**

 ** _(One eye?)"_**

"Hey, Little Dougie!"

 _Dougie jumped and stopped in his tracks when he felt a large, strong hand clamp unexpectedly onto his shoulder. He turned to face whoever it was that literally grabbed his attention, only to be greeted by a sudden blast of purple - the last thing he saw._

 _As soon as it came, it was gone_

 _And there was only blackness._

* * *

 **5:55 AM – Inside Fazbear's Fright**

Douglas was jolted wide awake out of his slumber. "Wha- what the..." he started, blinking rapidly and rubbing his head as his surroundings came back into focus. He was still here at Fazbear's Fright; safe, but shaken.

"What was that?" he yawned, looking around first and then at his watch, relieved that his shift had only five more minutes to go. "Was that a memory...? Those kids... they were my friends..."

 ** _BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZTT!_**

Douglas's train of thought was disrupted by the piercing sound of crackling static from the camera monitor. Forgetting about the dreamt memory, he quickly wheeled himself back and looked at the screen; sure enough, nothing but black and white dots covered the video feed.

"I thought I shut this thing down! Why is it still up?" Douglas said, confused as he flipped up his maintenance panel and hit the reboot button for " **camera system** ".

 **BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...** went the monitor as it rebooted the hallway cameras. After a few seconds, the red " **error** " message disappeared and all was fine when Douglas checked the feed; same shitty quality, but getting live video nonetheless.

But when his finger hit the button for CAM 08, the sight of something tall and willowy made him freeze.

With long, twiggy arms sporting three claw-like digits, and legs that tapered to sharp points, banded in colours of white and black, Marionne the Marionette's shiny mask gleamed proudly above the pipe-like neck of the lanky body that stretched itself almost from floor to ceiling.

The creepy stick figure stood perfectly still at the end of the hallway, gazing straight ahead and never faltering in its mocking, open-mouth smile. It was half-hidden in the shadows and its black body blended in perfectly with the darkness, making its white mask, buttons and bands seem like a spectre in the blinking lights from Chica's head.

"What the fuck..." started Douglas, looking a little to the right of the video to see Marionne's mask still hung clandestinely in the corner.

 ** _DING DONG DING DING... DONG DING DING DONG... YYYAAAAAYYYYYY!_**

The novice security guard practically jumped out of his skin and chair when the familiar sounds of the Westminster chimes mixed with the enthusiastic shouts and cheers of little children echoed loudly throughout the entire building.

"AAAAHHHH! ... Jesus!" cried the young man with a gasp before figuring, "Guess Jason really wanted to recreate the authentic night guard experience with that thing!"

He turned his stare back to CAM 08 on the monitor and was surprised to see that the hallway was bare. No puppet anywhere, just a worn-out mask and blinking lights.

"It must've been a reflection of that mask on the ground and the lights." guessed Douglas, rubbing his eyes. "Well, I better get going now. Neil and the others should be here soon."

As he shut down the monitor and pulled on his jacket, Douglas thought back to the memory that played out in his dream. _"I remember... I had five best friends before I left twenty years ago. But why did I forget them? And who grabbed my shoulder like that? That voice sounded so familiar..."_

The voice that called his name belonged to a much older male and had a sharpness, but strong undercurrent of familiarity with his six-year-old self. He did not see the man's face, but got an eyeful of the purple he was wearing that day.

When Douglas reached the exit and slipped the key in the lock, he also suddenly realized that the man had a name.

Two words... etched deeply into a golden nametag... glinting like a beacon in the waves of deep purple, surfaced from the dark seas of his memory. He glimpsed it just before he awoke.

Two words.

One name.

 _Vincent DiCarlo_.

* * *

 **August 19 - 3:35 AM – 2 Hours & 25 Minutes Prior - Harrisburg Self Storage – Unit #20**

"I'm telling you, Jason buddy, you're gonna love this!" assured Peter McNamee, grinning ear to ear as he and his co-workers eagerly led their boss down a cold, green corridor filled with many storage lockers.

"This had, like, better be fuckin' good dude!" said Jason Simpson half-jokingly as he tugged at his puka shell necklace. "I was about to bring in the hookers and blow, man!"

"Trust us, it's worth it." noted Nina Hunte, following behind the towhead.

"It took us forever to get it out of that old building and fit it in the van." explained Neil Cave as they arrived at their storage unit, "But that smell though, God... it must be full of some kind of mould or dead animal."

The brown-haired man hastily unlocked and opened the steel roll-up door. In mere seconds, Jason wrinkled his nose from the smell his employee just informed him about.

"Shit, dude! The fuck _is_ that smell?!" he exhaled sharply, holding his nose and peering into the unit.

"Jason buddy." began Peter, leading his best friend by the shoulder to a table with a cloth covering something large and distinctively humanoid in shape under it, "You wanted a star attraction... you got one!"

"Wait... seriously dude? You found one? A full animatronic?!" gawked Jason at the covered figure.

"Take a look and see, Jason. You do the honours." Nina smiled, picking up a can of apple cinnamon air freshener in the corner and spraying a generous amount inside the room.

Without another word, Jason stepped forward and ripped the cloth off with one swift yank. His blue eyes bulged and his jaw dropped as low as it could go when the prize he searched so long for lay in front of him.

 _"_ _We have it... we have one!"_

It was a complete animatronic; but a frightening thing to behold.

From what the group could tell, it was a rabbit character of some kind, but the synthetic fur had darkened from a golden brown to a sickly yellowish-green colour, and a stump was all that remained of its right ear. Wires of blue and red protruded unsettlingly from the severed ear and other sections of its smelly frame.

The one-time bunny performer's entire body was brutally damaged as if it picked a terribly unfair fight and lost, with entire sections reduced to nothing more than gaping holes that were slashed and ripped open to reveal the endoskeleton's intricate metal caging and wiring inside.

Both of its five-fingered hands were mostly intact with half the middle finger from the right one missing and part of the index finger broken off on the left. The legs were completely missing their plastic and latex coverings; instead the limbs were stripped bare from the mid-shin down, fully exposing the endoskeleton's metallic feet coiled with wiring.

A single black button was the only decoration that remained on its chest, since all of the neck and part of the upper thorax had worn and flaked away from mould and water damage. The foamy, fur-covered material around the bunny's mouth was severely deteriorated as well, exposing the wide, flat teeth and resulting in a permanent, deeply unsettling, Glasgow-looking smile stretching from corner to corner of the jaw.

Above this Joker-like visage, the animatronic's glass eyes, large and set within its rounded head, stared emptily up into the concrete ceiling above; the artificial windows to the soul, once a bright green, were faded into dull grey. It was slightly unsettling to the group as to how surprisingly lifelike they were despite what their owner was.

All in all, the whole thing resembled a rotting corpse of some kind, exhumed from its crypt and woken from its eternal slumber, ready to be dissected and held up for scrutiny to a morbid audience.

A speechless Jason Simpson slowly circled the table and admired the decaying wonder of metal and rotting plastics that stared up aimlessly with its silver eyes. To Neil, Nina and Peter, it was like watching a scene from a Frankenstein movie where the mad doctor slavishly devoted himself to his terrifying creation, determined to play God and write his own rules.

"What do you think?" piped up Peter, breaking the silence, "We just found him boarded up in a secret room."

"He's perfect..." said Jason in just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off the animatronic.

"Well there's still that smell," began Neil, "We need to have a good look at him first and then gotta open him up a—"

"No!" denied Jason sharply in an almost protective manner. "He stays as he is! This can, like, totally work to our advantage, Neil man."

"Um... OK." backed down Neil before noting, "Uh- I'd say judging by the five fingers on each hand, this is a springlock suit used back in the early 80s... I think this guy is 'Spring Bonnie'."

Jason and Peter both looked up and made a face at that name.

"That name is, like, so gay!" Jason admonished, "Who the fuck names a guy 'Bonnie' unless he's a fag?!"

"Yeah, totally man." agreed Peter, "The 'Spring' part makes it sound like a brand of fabric softener! He needs a new name."

"Agreed... how about 'Psycho Rabbit'?" suggested Neil.

"How about 'Shitface'?" Peter joked, looking down at the animatronic's disintegrating countenance and smirking.

"Very funny, Peter..." deadpanned Nina, "Maybe 'Springtrap' might suit him best?"

Everyone looked up at her.

"'Springtrap'? How'd you get that name, Nina?" asked Neil, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, he is a springlock animatronic..." started the blonde, "And those things were lethal if you remember Barry Driscoll's training messages. One wrong move or the slightest breath could set them off and make you into Swiss cheese. They were literal deathtraps and that's why they were no longer used..."

"... Because they killed two employees." finished Peter, uncrossing his arms. "I remember now."

"So "springlock" and "deathtrap" becomes, like, 'Springtrap'." put together Jason, before erupting with enthusiasm, "I LOVE IT! It's totally radical! You rock, dudette!"

"My pleasure." welcomed Nina ironically, checking the time.

Jason looked down at his star attraction once again and grinned his bleached white teeth, "Your name, dude, will be Springtrap! But we gotta have, like, a shtick or something for you..."

He looked up at his employees, "How about we make him say something, like, _'My name is Springtrap, and I am here to do the Devil's work!'_?"

"Kinda corny, Jason, but I think it can work with the right voice." said Peter.

"Totally, man!" beamed Jason, as he exited the storage unit, leaving behind the newly-named Springtrap. "I know this totally awesome David dude on YouTube that does these, like, totally kickass voices! Maybe we can get him to record a voice for Springtrap?"

"Sounds good to me; his scary voices are the best." agreed Neil, pulling down the unit's door and snapping the padlock in place.

"I'm gonna home for bit now and get some sleep." announced Nina. "We'll move Springtrap into Fazbear's Fright later."

"Sounds like a plan, dudette!" nodded Jason as he sent off a text on his phone, "I'll, like, have a crate or some shit like that sent by."

"OK. See you later, Jason!" Neil waved, as the four of them all went their separate ways, not knowing the true horror they unleashed and the nights of terror that were about to follow.

* * *

 **Inside Unit #20**

In the darkness, the force stirred from its dormancy.

 _I have escaped._

Two spheres that were the silver eyes blinked to life and became more human. They filled with gleeful malice and quiet satisfaction; soon other feelings poured into the mix.

Hate.

Rage.

Lust.

The force sat up and looked around, surrounded by relics of its two past lives. Gone were those glorious days of laughter and bloodshed.

 _No more._

 _I have a new life now._

 _Little Dougie..._

With a dark chuckle erupting from within the hidden secret, the force was no longer just a force.

 _My name is Springtrap... and I am here to do the Devil's work..._

* * *

 **Author's Note**

 **Uh-oh... what evil have they released now? And how is Vincent connected to Douglas? Things are going to get far more interesting from now on.**

 **And as most of you have noticed, most of the dialogue of the animatronics - Freddy, Bonnie and Chica - is taken directly from the Hidden Lore series done by MrCreepyPasta with him, CreepyPastaJr and** **KittenReadsHorror voicing Freddy, Bonnie and Chica respectively. Full credit goes to them for their amazing work because they captured the characters exactly how I think they would sound and act on stage. And do check out their channels if you want.  
**

 **The other person I must give credit to for some of Springtrap's dialogue is David Near. His Springtrap is perfect in every way and that is the voice you must picture in your head when you read Springtrap's words and thoughts. Be sure to check out his channel too.**

 **Anyway, see you next time and feel free to review and ask any questions. :-)**


	8. is Easily Misunderstood

**... is Easily Misunderstood...**

* * *

 **A Darkened Room**

 ** _"_** ** _HaaHAaaa...!"_**

 _He was back._

 _It was that dream again._

 _Douglas Blackburn swivelled his Freddy Fazbear head side to side, examining, but not really seeing, through the eyes that were not his own while ominous, elongated shadows danced with aplomb across the dining areas walls and tables, blind to the bear's stiff movements on the quiet stage._

 _Bonnie... Chica... Bonnie... Chica..._

 _The blanket of blackness ahead of him yielded no signs of life, but the same chilling sounds of distorted children's laughter echoed unrestrained through the silence. It was like a jungle; a wild jungle in the darkest depths of the unknown_.

"I'm here..." _said Douglas barely above a whisper, continuing with his routine, the head's dull rotating striking a dissonant melody in his ears._ "The dream... I've never had it again... so soon."

 _It was true._

 _The same mysterious recurring dream never reared its puzzling head two nights in a row. Sometimes weeks or months would pass by before it snuck up on him out of the blue; but never night to night. Never back to back._

 ** _"_** ** _HAaahaAahaHAaa... HahaHA...!"_**

 _More laughter rang out. It sounded closer, but Douglas paid it no attention this time._

 _Something felt different about this dream... that something was him. He was no longer confused or startled by his predicament; now, there was tranquility in him this time as if used to being an anthropomorphic bear animatronic. Or were the feelings not his own?_

 _The question did not cross Douglas's mind, instead he focused on his monotonous task of cycling between the purple rabbit with the red bow-tie and the yellow chicken and her lettered bib._

 _Bonnie... Chica... Bonnie... Chica..._

 _Suddenly, Douglas froze Freddy's head in its tracks when he faced the bunny guitarist that always gazed blankly into the distance._

 _This time, Bonnie was gazing right back at him._

 _The tall plum-coloured animatronic's head and body were angled differently than all the other times Douglas had had the dream. Now, he was turned slightly towards his - Freddy's - direction and Douglas could see his eyes' rosy gleam in the dim room; something he was unable to see before._

"Bonnie...?" _uttered Douglas, before turning to see if Chica moved from the position she had held for the past twenty years._

 _She had._

 _Now her amethyst-coloured eyes and white bib could be seen more clearly; her stance now mirrored that of the band's guitarist._

"This is new... what's going on here?" _said Douglas with rippling feelings of unease spreading through his shared body._ "Something's not right..."

 _Both Bonnie and Chica's eyes were widened fully and their plastic, articulated eyebrows arched high above two pairs of glassy spheres. Eerie shadows of purplish-black wavered across their cartoonish features, contracting... expanding... helping to convey a new sense of emotion that was masterful in its subtlety, but evident in its approach._

 _They were afraid and very worried about something._

 _But what was it?_

 _The rabbit and chicken looked at him... no... up to him to do something about their feelings._

"Something's coming for them. Is that it?" _wondered Douglas, still moving his sight from side to side, hoping they could tell or show him more._

 ** _"_** ** _HAhAhaHaahahaaaaaaaahaAAaaaaaAaaaaaaa... !"_**

 _The laughter continued, building to its usual crescendo and crumbling to an indecipherable discord, while the room swam with static before Freddy's eyeholes. The two automated performers continued to watch the leader of 'The Fazbears' with their uneasy expressions, making the man inside more and more nervous as all he could do was swivel the bear's metal cranium back and forth in confusion._

 _Douglas's mind raced,_ "What is it? What is happening with you two?! Won't you te—"

 ** _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- BZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTT!_**

 _And then they were gone... all swallowed by the blackness._

* * *

 **August 20 – 5:28 PM - River Plaza, Apartment #I3**

Brown eyes like smoldering chestnuts blazed open with a frantic rush that nearly tore their eyelids straight off. Brown eyes, the lamps of their body, circled and darted around the room in panic before their owner accepted he was safe.

His face, flushed and sweating, rolled beads of perspiration down his forehead and cheeks, staining the pillow below with drops of liquid anxiety. Douglas sat up in bed, the effort made him dizzy, and turned to rest his cold feet on the bedroom's carpeted floor; the plush material doing little warm his soles as he held his head in his hands.

Confused, he thought, _"It was different this time. But why?"_

He looked wearily outside the window through the slatted Venetian blinds and saw that it was late in the evening already. The morning sun he had stayed up to after his first night at Fazbear's Fright had long since arced its way across the sky, with the draping afternoon closing impatiently towards the dusk. The darkness of the night washed over Capitol Heights like the rolling tides covering a shore of townhouses and single-family duplexes as Nyx came to lie with Erebus.

Douglas looked at the clock, "Just past six-thirty..." he noted, "... can't believe I slept so long. But that's the graveyard shift for you."

The first thing he did upon getting home, after a cup of water and a hot shower, was drop on his bed and plunge deeply into a heavy slumber. The new sleep cycle would definitely take some to adjust to.

His stomach grumbled, "Tank needs some gas." he said with a light smile, putting his hand on his tummy, "Better fill it up for tonight."

A few minutes later, having fixed himself two bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches and a cup of his favourite _Tim Horton's_ , Douglas sat down in front of his laptop and booted it up from hibernation. A quick Google search of the name _'Vincent DiCarlo'_ which played over and over in his head like a bad earworm yielded nothing, not even when paired with _'Fredbear's Family Diner'_ nor _'Freddy Fazbear's Pizza'_.

Chewing on a bite of the sandwich, Douglas observed, _"Nothing... it's like this Vincent guy never even existed."_ He sipped his coffee and then asked himself, _"But there has to be something out there! He definitely knew me... but why don't I remember him?"_

The mystery confounded and perplexed him, and the more he thought about it, the more he wondered about his forgotten his childhood friends. The images of the five children still lingered clearly in his mind, but he could not remember their names or anything else about them, except that they were his best friends and always spent time at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza together.

 _"_ _Maybe the file contains something I missed about Vincent?"_ supposed Douglas, taking another bite of his sandwich, content at feeling the simple but clever mix of ingredients slide into his stomach. _"But if he was just another employee, I doubt it... maybe I should ask Jason a question? He might know something... yeah, I'll do that."_ he resolved before picking up his cell to dial his boss's number.

It went straight to voicemail.

Sighing, Douglas left a simple message asking Jason to give him a call back as soon as it was convenient. With that done, he turned his attention back to his laptop and clicked on a video thumbnail in the Google search results. The link led to a YouTube video titled _"Fredbear & Friends – Episode 01 – A Fazbear Beginning!"_

"Hmmm... there was a cartoon show as well?" said a slightly surprised Douglas, clicking the play button to load the video. "Maybe I might remember some more stuff if I watch this."

He picked up his second sandwich and curled his feet up on his dad's comfy red armchair, a piece brought back from New York after the funeral, and began the show.

* * *

 **11:00 PM**

The glass-covered torsion clock dinged its tittering chime, snapping the brown-skinned man away from the laptop screen which transfixed his attention for the past several hours. Douglas stared up at his mother's antique keepsake, given to her as a wedding gift by a now long-dead aunt, and gasped.

"Dammit! I'm gonna be late!" he groaned, darting up from the chair and pelting to the bathroom to rinse off quickly for work.

"How did I ever let the time get away from me?" he fussed as he soaped himself up in the warm water.

But he already knew the answer; it went without saying. _"Fredbear & Friends"_ was a pretty good kid's show.

Set in the fictitious land of Fazbear Hills, Fredbear and his best friend, Spring Bonnie, were a much-loved and successful singing duo that acted as mentors to Fredbear's nephew, Freddy Fazbear, and his two best friends and band mates: Bonnie the bunny, who was Spring Bonnie's nephew as well, and Chica the chicken, their childhood friend.

Now retired, Fredbear and Spring Bonnie looked to pass the torch on to a new generation of entertainers while teaching them the true meaning of friendship, teamwork and hard effort. Each episode's adventure dealt with the Fazbear band going on tour to a new location in their world and learning a different lesson like sharing, politeness, honesty and keeping promises.

The trio always inevitably ran into conflict amongst themselves or with someone else, but by the end of the episode they learnt the appropriate Aesop and let their mentors know as much. But along the way, Captain Foxy the Pirate relentlessly tailed the group, a la Team Rocket from _Pokémon_ , and aimed to steal their songs for himself so he could create his own band. However, the pirate fox would fail each time and usually wound up blasting off or sailing away in his ship, vowing revenge for next time.

As he stepped out of the shower, Douglas hummed a tune from one of the show's many catchy songs. It was all coming back to him. _"I remember this show now,"_ he thought as he pulled on his clothes, _"I used to watch it every Saturday morning on TV when I was little. They were probably reruns though; the dates were from 1983 to 1987, the year I was born. Maybe it was to introduce kids to the new characters when Fredbear's shut down from the bad publicity?"_

Now dressed, he looked up at his mother's clock again. "Ten past eleven. Better call a cab quickly..." he noted, picking up his landline, "I really don't want to be late on my second night..."

* * *

 **11:50 PM – Inside Fazbear's Fright**

It was almost midnight on the dot when Douglas Blackburn hurriedly slammed the metal door shut to Fazbear's Fright; the loud clanking reverberated loudly throughout the building and disturbed the heavy silence.

"Thank God! I just made it!" breathed a relieved Douglas with his palm against his sweaty forehead. Neither Neil nor Nina were anywhere to be seen when he arrived, and tonight he opted to take a shortcut through the attraction's hallways than racing the long way to the back door.

As he leaned against the now-locked door to catch his breath, with the low sound of the ventilation system pushing air through the open vents, Douglas noticed that there was something in the hallway. Something new that was not there before.

A crate.

It stood almost completely hidden in the corner's shadows, a wooden coffin-like box spanning almost floor to ceiling and stamped red with the word " **FRAGILE** " across its grainy surface. Douglas took a step, two steps, then three, stopping when he was face to face with the suspicious container.

"Guess the others brought this thing in earlier today." he deduced, tucking his purple shirttails in his pants. Douglas then sniffed and immediately recoiled when a foul stench made him retch, "Jesus, what is that smell?!" grimaced the security guard in disgust, "What've they got in that thing? Dead rats?"

 ** _RIIIIINNNNG! RIIIINNNNG!_**

But he could not dwell on it any further, for the sudden pealing of the office's phone tugged his attention away from the crate, away from its mystery.

"It's probably Jason again. I better see what he says this time." said Douglas, jogging to the horror simulation's center of operations, navigating the dim corridors and bypassing its residents that stared emptily in every corner.

Within the crate, the force that now called itself Springtrap stirred.

While his faded eyes blinked with life-giving light and his artificial limbs ground from use, he snickered maliciously and clenched his fists in anticipation, slowly opening them with thoughts of tonight's bloody carnage.

"Heh heh heh... Showtime!" rasped Springtrap with a touch of glee.

He gave the crate's heavy cover an effortless push with one hand; the entire thing came off and clattered to the ground. Thin, long nails jutted out venomously around the edges like the fangs of a poisonous snake.

Springtrap stepped out and looked down curiously at the fallen cover, his worn and torn head titled to one side, observing it like an animal, curious, but impressed. He looked at his scraggly palm, and once more flexed the threadbare appendage ominously before marvelling darkly, "Such power!", and then turned his grinning face up to the two mounted cameras.

Time to play.

"Night guard... I am _coming_ for you!"

* * *

 **12:00 AM – The Office**

Douglas anxiously pushed the phone's speaker button when he sat down in his swivel chair for tonight's shift. As Jason Simpson's beach bum voice emitted excitedly through the speaker, Douglas noticed he seemed rather thrilled this time around.

He listened eagerly.

 _"_ _Hey, Dougie man- okay, I have some awesome news for you! First of all, we found some vintage audio training cassettes! Dude, these are, like, prehistoric!"_ gushed Jason. _"I think they were, like, training tapes for, like, other employees or something like that. So, I thought we could, like, have them playing, like, over the speakers as people walk through the attraction. Dude, that makes this feel legit, man."_

"OK. Fair enough. Those tapes could be a good idea." nodded Douglas, pushing back from the desk to look through his camera monitors, starting at CAM 01 and working his way up.

Jason continued with his findings, _"But I have an even better surprise for you, and you're not gonna believe this- we found one. A REAL one."_

Douglas looked up with a raised eyebrow, _"A real one? What does he mean by that?"_ he wondered, but was distracted by his boss's sudden digression.

 _"_ _Uh-oh-uh gotta go man- uh, well-well look, i-it's in there somewhere, I'm-I'm sure you'll see it. Okay, I'll leave you with some of this great audio that I found! Talk to you later, man!"_ sped Jason through the rest of his message followed by the click of the phone being put down.

"What was that abou—" began Douglas only to be cut off by a new voice coming from the phone. This one was that of an older male with a quiet, somewhat nasally sound to his voice and sported a light Midwestern accent.

 _"_ _Uh, hello! Hello, hello! Uh, welcome to your new career as a performer/entertainer for Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."_ blurted out the chipper and friendly-sounding man.

"Who is this fellow now?" said Douglas, tilting his head to listen better to the old recording.

 _"_ _Uh, these tapes will provide you with much needed information on how to handle/climb into/climb out of mascot costumes. Right now, we have two specially designed suits that double as both animatronics and suits. So please pay close attention while learning how to operate these suits as accidents/injuries/death/irreparable and grotesque maiming can occur."_ continued the phone guy, sounding like he was reading off a grocery list with barely a hint of concern in his tone.

Douglas paused and raised a dark brown eyebrow, "Huh? What? Those must be the springlock suits he's talking about, but why use them if they were so dangerous?"

He resumed his checking of the cameras again while the man lectured on.

 _"_ _First and most discussed is how to operate the mascots while in animatronic form. For ease of operation, the animatronics are set to turn and walk towards sounds they hear which is an easy and hands-free approach to making sure the animatronics stay where the children are for maximum entertainment/crowd-pleasing value."_

So far, as Douglas noted, there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen in any of the hallways except for the blinking eyes of Foxy's, Bonnie's and Chica's heads, and Marionne's mask whose expression seemed to go from happy to angry by the spooky flickering of the light.

 _"_ _To change the animatronics to suit mode, insert and turn firmly the hand crank provided by the manufacturer. Turning the crank will recoil and compress the animatronic parts around the sides of the suit, providing room to climb inside. Please make sure the spring locks are fastened tight to ensure the animatronic devices remain safe."_

"So that must've been the secret 'springlocking' process the article talked about." recalled Douglas as he neared the end of his camera check. "Almost done..."

 _"_ _We will cover this in more detail in tomorrow's session. Remember to smile; you are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."_

 ** _CLICK!_**

The line went quiet and Douglas was left to the silence once more.

"Well that was interesting," said Douglas, pressing the touch screen for CAM 09. "I should maybe take a look at that file aga—what the...?"

He sat stiffened in his seat when he saw the static-filled screen and the footage it showed him.

Tall blackness, its features outlined by the exit sign's fugitive light, stood covertly in the hallway Douglas raced through moments before. The crate's cover lay on the ground, the eerie shape on top of it and just standing there perfectly still, a dark figure silhouetted in red light and half-hidden by scraps of fabric that hung from the ceiling.

Douglas felt a wind rush through his chest; it was colder than the night air outside. _"The hell is that thing?!"_ he mouthed, the words knotted across his Adam's apple as he stared at the scary shape at the end of the hallway. _"That wasn't there when I came in..."_

Blinking his wide, open eyes, he forced himself to breathe again. He leaned forward to get a closer look at the snowy monitor. The thing was humanoid in shape, but definitely not human. It was way too big and way too stiff. In the strained silence, there was the almost imperceptible whisper of his skin moving against the inside of his clothing as he brought his face right up to the screen.

"Is that..." he began, only to be cut off by the picture suddenly filling with dancing white dots and a buzzing sound.

"No, no... don't do this to me now! Wait, where is it?!" The monitor flickered; the hallway was coming back into view. "Yes, yes... I can see—Aahhhh!"

Douglas jumped back in his seat from the screen, never taking his eyes from the new image in stunned silence.

The shape had moved.

A single eye, gleaming like that of a cat's caught in headlights, shone directly from the left side of the screen. It was the only thing that Douglas could see in the overpowering darkness, and it looked into the camera as if it could see right back at him.

Something black began to slide down over the eye just slightly. An eyelid? It gave the bright, glowing sphere an air of malice... was that thing _glaring_ at him?

Douglas did not have time to dwell on the question any further for there was another burst of static and everything was gone again. The screen blinked back to its normal, substandard efficacy and the corridor was drab once more, but he shape was nowhere in sight.

"Is that thing... an animatronic? Was that the surprise the others were talking about?" said Douglas, looking around his office nervously from the chill that raced up his spine. The fan's whirring blades was the only answer he got.

* * *

 **Hallway 4 – Near CAM 05**

The force known as Springtrap slinked his way around the building on feet of metal with the quiet effectiveness and skillful dexterity of a trained assassin. He glided down the untended corridors hung with shiny stars and plastic pizzas, drawings and checkered tiles, while the flickering blue light of the arcade cabinet danced across his rotted features and penetrated through the gaping holes.

Springtrap's wide, glowing eyes followed the contours of light that connected the halls as his seven foot frame slid through open passages, filling the spaces there and darkening doorways, leaving them dimmer in his wake. As he walked, the gears and joints inside of him ground up their hidden secret, leaving a trail of fine dust behind his feet and allowing more fluid movements. The demented animatronic gravitated toward another source of deeper darkness where he gained strength, moving... flowing... swiftly and silently towards his prey.

"Night guard..." he whispered with a breathy chuckle and an even deeper evil smile. "Now I know what it's like... now I know what it is to hunt... to taste delicious fear... to feel that urge to kill!"

Springtrap continued on, and as he did, getting closer to his first victim in twenty years, more artifacts of the Fazbear franchise greeted his coming as if he was no stranger, but had been expected for a very long time. He was now in the fifth corridor and Foxy's hung-up head greeted him with an open mouth as he did all who ventured into Pirate's Cove.

He stopped and pressed the button beneath the head.

 _"HEY KIDDIES! FOXY'S HERE TO START THE PARTY! MAKE SURE YE HAVE YER SODA AND YER PIZZA AND LET'S SING SOME OL' SEA SHANTIES! ARRRGGHHH!"_

"You were always my favourite, Foxy..." reminisced Springtrap softly, staring at his old friend and thinking back to the beginning. "But too bad you were such a _bitch_ to keep on fixing all the time!"

With a grunt the zombie-like bunny animatronic lumbered off again on his quest, stopping suddenly halfway down the hallway as if he had forgotten something. He looked over his putrid shoulder and sneered back condescendingly at the fox, "And _you_ had to keep getting in my way. But I showed _you_ , didn't I?"

He snickered low under his foul breath and carried on with his dark purpose, ignoring the bodiless former pirate fox that snarled back with silence and a flickering glower.

* * *

 **1:10 AM – The Office**

"Come on... come on... where are you?" Douglas implored as he flipped through the cameras on the monitor. "I can't see shit on this thing! God!"

The frustrated man squinted and searched as hard as he could through the camera feed, but the darkness and static made it extremely hard to pick out where the rogue animatronic was hiding. Only one other time, he caught a glimpse of it on CAM 05 in the distance, its body mostly covering the lone lit arcade game's screen. But as soon as it appeared, the static overwhelmed the feed and it would be gone almost instantly the moment it cleared up.

"I don't get it." muttered Douglas, "Is that thing causing the static or something? Or is this shitty awful camera just glitching up all the time? Dammit, missed it again!"

It was lurking by the Foxy head lamp at CAM 04, its shoulder poking out in the bottom right-hand corner of the room, but then _bzzzzzt!_ \- and it was no longer there. He reached CAM 08 and saw Chica's head lamp blinking and lighting up the corridor. He paused for a moment, an idea forming in his head as the words of the nameless phone guy echoed through his recollections.

 _"_ _For ease of operation, the animatronics are set to turn and walk towards sounds they hear..."_

"Sounds they hear..." murmured Douglas remembering the " **Play Audio** " button beside the digital map. "Let's see if this will work..."

He anxiously pushed the button and waited.

* * *

 **Hallway 6 – Near CAM 02**

The yellowish-green leporid could sense that the office was near as he turned on his skeletal legs of alloys and ratchets. He was pleased to discover that his mere presence could affect the security cameras when he was ready to make a move; a sort of electro-magnetic interference not unlike that encountered in famous hauntings.

That, he realized, was how those little brats did it all those years ago.

 _"_ _Night guard..."_ thought Springtrap, his excitement rising steadfastly in his long dead heart as anticipation of the kill raced through his iron skull. _"I've got you n—"_

 _"_ _Hello!"_

A voice.

A boy's voice cut through the dark labyrinth clear as a bell.

Springtrap froze unexpectedly in his tracks, his lone ear and the adjacent stump perked up quickly like antenna to receive the broadcasted signal. But these actions were not his doing. He did not stop on his own accord this time.

"What the...?" he started, dumbstruck, "Why can't I move? Why won't this fucking suit _move_?!"

He cursed again when he felt his body suddenly turn around and march to the source of the sound, almost goose-stepping like he was in a military parade. The words " **FOLLOW THE VOICE** " flashed before his vision over and over again.

"The fuck is this?!" swore Springtrap, before furiously narrowing his glowing eyes into tiny slits when the realization dawned on him. "Of course... it's this stupid suit's programming! How could I forget?!"

He remembered that the springlock suits, like the one he was now, were programmed with an artificial intelligence that would draw them towards certain kinds of sounds, particularly those of children. The murder at Fredbear's Family Diner had been the catalyst for it, though it did nothing to stop the horror from happening again. Now, it seemed that with his life force powering the suit, it also brought back some of his new body's old kinks.

Springtrap crossed against his will over into the light of Hallway 2 and stood perfectly still like he did before in Hallway 1. He shifted his radiant eyes ever so slightly towards the camera in the upper left corner and scowled at its tiny, flashing red light.

"Alright, night guard..." he growled threateningly, balling his fists and then relaxing them, "We'll do it your way for now. I'll play your little game while I overcome this damned setback, and when I do... I will _enjoy_ ripping your _fucking_ throat out!"

The once golden bunny stopped himself from laughing out loud at his dark desire. There was a game to play now: a game of absolute stillness and sudden bursts of movement. A twisted rendition of "Red Light, Green Light" those rusted buckets of bolts perfected so many years prior against their terrified victims.

He would master it in time.

After all, time was on his side.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

 **Looks like things are gonna get more intense for poor Douglas. He has no idea what he is dealing with.**

 **Credit for Foxy's dialogue goes to WellHeyProductions. He is truly awesome as the Pirate Fox.**

 **As always, feel free to review and ask any questions. :-)**


	9. Murderous Eyes

**And now for the conclusion of Night 2 at Fazbear's Fright! Things are going to pick up and get even more intense from here on.**

 ** _WARNING_ : This part of the story contains explicit violence and gore. If either of these things disturb you, I strongly suggest that you skip this chapter or skip over the last scene with the sub-heading "Hallway 4".**

* * *

 **Murderous Eyes**

* * *

 **1:17 AM – The Office**

Douglas could see it now.

The shape, partly rendered a sickly green by the blinking sodium lights, rose from the shady depths a tall and imposing mass. Its front was veiled in shadow with only glinting eyes and bared teeth shining through; it was a unsettling sight to behold just standing in the corridor while the light wavered on the walls; contracting... expanding...

His brow knitted itself tightly between his eyes, "Where the hell did they get that thing?" Douglas started, looking it up and down on the crackly monitor, his face muscles no longer relaxed, but concerned and apprehensive. "Is this supposed to be some kind of zombie rabbit? How on earth is it even moving? It looks like it's falling apart!"

Indeed, the animatronic did closely resemble one of the walking dead raised from a shallow grave. Every conceivable part of the rabbit was decomposed or falling to bits; holes were everywhere on its body, and an ear was almost completely missing. Its mouth was rotted and showed off all its blunt teeth in a sick joker-like grin while the leg coverings were worn away and showed off metal endoskeleton shins and feet; wires jutted out from many different places on its body. If Jason Simpson wanted a star attraction, then he got his wish with this bunny monstrosity.

Douglas's mind raced, "Maybe Neil and the rest of the gang made it look so rotten and scary..." he told himself, trying to rationalize what his eyes were seeing. "Yeah, that's it, it's a perfectly good endoskeleton fixed up to look like a zombie. They sure had me there for a while!"

He breathed a sigh of relief and pressed his back against his chair, satisfied with his logical explanation. But he could not relax; it was too facile.

 _"_ _Something is still not right."_ thought Douglas, a thin film of perspiration glossing his face. As he kept his eyes trained on the freakish construct on CAM 08, he pulled his purple neckline and blew down, ventilating his uniform. It was then he realized his brown hands were shaking.

"The eyes..." the perspiring man mouthed as he narrowed through the static. The animatronic's eyes were no longer staring in front to the doorway, but instead now angled up at the camera in his direction. He did not know how, but he _knew_ that it was staring at him. Something else existed behind those pale gray eyes; it was malevolence, and they were full of it.

"No, no, no..." gritted Douglas through his teeth, forcing back the paranoid thoughts. "That's impossible. It's just a trick of the light. This place is getting to me already!"

He squeezed his eyes shut shook his head firmly, opening them up when he finished counting to five, and focused his swimming vision on the fuzzy screen once more. Sure enough the makeshift cadaver was staring straight ahead like before.

 _"_ _See? It's just my imagination running wild."_ Douglas reaffirmed to himself, _"There's always a perfectly logical expla—"._

 ** _BZZZZZTTT!_**

The screen filled with static and when it cleared, Douglas's mouth dropped open.

It was gone again.

"Where'd it go?!" agonized Douglas flipping through the cameras hurriedly, searching for the missing machine that abruptly vanished. But there was nothing. It was nowhere in sight on CAMS 1 through 10, no indication it was ever inside Fazbear's Fright to begin with. "It's gone! It's—"

 ** _THUMP THUMP THUMP! RUMBLE RUMBLE! CLONK CLUNK SCRAPE!_**

Sudden sounds of metallic rustling snapped him out of his mild panic; dull clanking was getting louder and louder towards him each second. Something was knocking about in the building, but where? Douglas darted his eyes and head around his office and when he noticed the open air vent, he stopped.

"No way!" he uttered in disbelief, checking his monitor and noticing the " **Map Toggle** " button. "Of course! I can't believe I forgot the vent cams!"

The security guard quickly pressed the button and the view changed from familiar, decorated hallways to narrow, square-shaped metal tunnels that were the ventilation system. But the first camera, CAM 11, made Douglas's blood run cold.

It was inside the vent.

He did not know how something so big and bulky-looking could fit in such a narrow space, but there it was. The twisted, mocking smile still boldly plastered across its face, its hands and arms stretched out in front of it like a Vietcong crawling through jungle grass to combat, the lone segmented ear bent down for the low ceiling... the animatronic resembled some kind of humongous insect – a giant cockroach or centipede – crawling through a pipe or infested foundation searching for food and shelter. It was immensely unnerving to see and Douglas knew that no amount of programming or design could make a bipedal robot - one built for children's entertainment no less - crawl on its stomach the way this one was doing now.

Without a word, Douglas double-clicked the button for CAM 11, a message popped up indicating the vent was being sealed and within a few seconds, the green line on the map showing where a vent door was turned red. It was shut.

Douglas breathed a sigh of relief at stopping the robot from advancing towards him any further. "Phew! Dodged that bullet!" he said, wiping nervous sweat from his forehead.

 ** _BZZZZZTTT!_**

Gone now.

Just before he could let out an annoyed groan there was another noise that poured out from the open office vent. A child's voice, male and high-pitched with a very peppy twang, echoed from within; it was different from the one connected to the camera monitors and sounded old and somewhat worn, but its message was clear.

 _"_ _Ha ha ha... I wouldn't keep doing that if I were you, ol' buddy ol' pal!"_ sang the voice sweetly in an obnoxious and condescending manner, _"Ready or not, here I come!"_

"Fuck me..." trembled Douglas when the thumping inside the air vents started up again. He frantically checked his cameras, "Is it _speaking_ to me now? What's going on here? Am I going crazy?"

But he did not have time to think about it when he spotted the decaying animatronic on CAM 13, and this time it was glancing sideways at the camera in shadow, frozen in the fuzzy video feed.

"How is it moving so fast?" said the weary security guard, pressing the button to seal the vent. "Ugh... this is gonna be a long night!"

* * *

 **5:45 AM**

"Come on, come on... hurry up, please!" begged Douglas, looking impatiently at the tiny face of his digital watch for the umpteenth time.

Quarter to six. Fifteen more minutes to go.

The past several hours were an exercise in pure anxiety as a tense game of cat and mouse played out within the haunted halls of Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction.

Douglas, his knuckles white from gripping the armrests of his chair, managed to keep the frightening star of the attraction, a zombified-looking rabbit animatronic, from getting too close to his office by playing the audio recording again and again, and dragging it back to the view of CAM 08 - the easiest place for him to keep an eye on it. But the animatronic seemed to be somewhat enjoying the game they were playing... like it was biding its time to plan ahead for its next move, whatever it may be. Douglas did not know what would have happened if the decaying mascot was successful in its endeavour, but he dared not wish to find out.

 ** _BZZZZZTTT!_**

The hallway was empty again.

"Where are you this time?" whispered Douglas, flipping through the cameras, trying to figure out its movement patterns before playing the audio to bring it back. This way, he could seal vents in advance and predict what passages it would turn up in, but doing so proved to be more difficult than he imagined for it had a strong tendency to turn up in the most random of places.

"Come on... where are you hiding, you... what?" started the twenty-six-year-old, his words stopping mid-sentence when he saw something blocking CAM 10's view.

A face plastered itself across the screen, hiding most of the image and leaving only the red glow of the exit sign's light to frame its features like a halo. It strongly resembled the head shell of the boy animatronic in the box near the door, but its face was blackened heavily with soot and charred deeply like burnt wood. There were no eyes in its gaping sockets, and deep green marks coloured the once red rosy cheeks and stained its teeth.

"What is..." began Douglas at the image that gawked at him motionlessly, but he never got the chance to continue, for, suddenly, his monitor swung itself back to the side, and to his horror, the image remained and he saw that the eerie face was connected to a body that matched with its burned appearance. It stood right in front him and this time it had eyes... small, whitish-silver irises like shining pearls glimmering in the deathly black pools.

There was no chance to see any other details of the frightening apparition.

Without warning, the charbroiled child lunged at him with ball-like hands reaching for his throat while a hanging lower jaw stretched open even wider as if to take a bite right out of him. The scream it uttered was the most horrifying thing Douglas ever heard; it was a low, metallic, hissing snarl that rattled his bones and nerves through and through.

 ** _"_** ** _PSSCCCCHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!"_**

The room flashed with a bright white light as the deathly mirage leapt at him and the man could only yell in shock and fright, jumping back against his chair and sending the whole thing crashing to the ground; his head struck the wall behind him painfully. Douglas then groaned to his feet, clutching his pounding head as he stood up and shook off the agony, he looked around for what jumped him. As quickly as it had come, it was gone.

But now there was a new problem. The office blinked red from a light in the ceiling Douglas had not noticed before and an alarm was bleeping incessantly; the air was also beginning to feel thick as he breathed in and out deeply from the terrifying experience just seconds ago.

He pulled up the maintenance panel and saw there was a red error message beside " **ventilation** ", letting him know the system needed rebooting from its unexpected failure. Douglas hurriedly pressed the reboot button and waited nervously, counting the beeps while the ventilation system started over, hoping that the ghastly yellowish-green terror was not waiting for him behind the screen when he put it down.

After a few tense seconds, Douglas heard the familiar low hum of the ventilation's circulatory fans start up and felt the air flow lightly from the opening.

Crisis averted.

"The rabbit!" remembered Douglas frantically, checking back at his cameras, "There you are!"

He saw it on CAM 02 in Hallway 6, standing in the doorway leading from Hallway 5. It was peering in and looking, not at the camera this time, but at the cartoony poster of Freddy Fazbear stuck on the wall, studying it as if studying a painting hung in an art museum. It was odd and puzzled Fazbear's Fright's newest employee even more.

"Why is it staring at that poster like that? Why isn't it trying to—" he started but was cut off by the Westminster chimes and children cheering that signalled the end of his shift.

 ** _DING DONG DING DING... DONG DING DING DONG... YYYAAAAAYYYYYY!_**

Whatever lingering questions he had about the eerie animatronic were going to wait; he was not spending another minute longer inside than he had to.

"Screw that thing!" he announced to himself, shutting back the camera monitor and grabbing up his jacket. "I'm outta here!"

Douglas bolted from his office, past the half-assembled Freddy Fazbear suit and to the exit door, and as he fumbled in his pocket for the key, the childish voice from earlier echoed from the passageway behind him.

 _"_ _Ha ha ha! I found you now!"_ it giggled triumphantly, followed by the slow sounds of clanking footsteps that grew closer.

"Shit!" panicked Douglas, jamming the key in the lock and turning hard. The door flew open like a metal wing and the grey morning sky greeted him welcomingly; his second night at Fazbear's Fright was officially over.

Douglas practically flew around the building, leaving the locked door behind him, hoping to get far away from the stalking terror within. "I gotta talk to Neil or Jason about this! They'll know what to do!"

* * *

 **6:11 AM – Inside Fazbear's Fright – Hallway 8**

Springtrap lumbered with a steady, efficient gait to the door he spotted the night guard escaping through and balled his fists in anger, cursing himself at the missed opportunity to rush in for the slaughter. He was tempted to burst through the door and give chase, but he knew not to make such a rash move.

No. He would wait for the next time. The night guard would come back. They always came back.

Yet, as Springtrap prowled the halls, the glimpse he got of the man played back in his dark mind. He did not see his face, but the dark brown hair and tan skin seemed familiar to him somehow; a sense of déjà vu.

The sudden opening and slamming sound of the other metal exit door in Hallway 1 snapped him out of his thoughts. His enhanced, sensitive hearing detected soft footsteps and whistling mixed with something being dragged across the tiled floor.

Someone else was in the building.

Springtrap grinned craftily and ducked into a ventilation tunnel he knew would lead to Hallway 1, chuckling as he slithered as silently as a serpent through the smooth ducts, the sounds getting louder as he crawled closer.

"Looks like I will get to have my kill after all..."

* * *

 **Hallway 4**

Wayne Broadbent was indifferent to the spooky decor in Fazbear's Fright and the history it sought to exploit. The aging, white-moustachioed man whistled _'Waltzing Matilda'_ through his puckered lips while he pulled his empty bucket and mop behind him past faded drawings and suspended stars. It was just another early morning's work for him.

He reached the long section of wall hung with the three pizza decorations and approached the middle one, reaching for something behind the plastic disk. While he did so, the ghostly blue light from the arcade continued to cast shapes and shadows across the forest green fabric of the jumpsuit that hung on his short and lanky frame.

"There we go." verified Wayne as he found what he was feeling for: a door handle. The bespectacled senior turned it and pulled open the cleverly hidden door to the janitor's closet where the sink and other cleaning agents were stored. He continued with his whistling, unaware that he was being watched from afar with steely eyes.

Springtrap peeped out from behind his hiding place - the arcade cabinet - like a hungry predator lying in wait. He narrowed his eyes when he saw the old man.

 _"_ _An old geezer..."_ he thought, mildly disappointed, instead preferring something young and fresh. It was how he operated in his past life... crushing young lives before they properly began and permanently extinguishing those who tried to take away what rightfully belonged to him. It made him angry just remembering those times before... and the failures; so much so, that Springtrap did not even realize he was gripping the side of the machine so hard in bubbling rage that his fingers dented it deeply.

But he stopped, remembering his new lease on life, remembering the new modus operandi bestowed on him by the man named Jason. Now, with a satisfied snicker, the granite-throated demon echoed the words, half-whispering, half-mouthing them.

 _"_ _My name is Springtrap, and I am here to do the Devil's work!"_

The Devil did not care.

The Devil did not discriminate.

Everyone and everything was fair game.

So, too, was that man.

Springtrap saw the janitor closing the door and moving again, pulling his mop and full bucket with him and whistling that same tune as before. He darted quietly and quickly from his hiding place and pursued the man, leaving more fine dust as he stalked closer and closer to the senior citizen.

Meanwhile, Wayne Broadbent now found himself in Hallway 6 with Foxy's red, matted head blinking warningly to unseen guests down the passageway. He decided, like he normally did, to pick a random room to start in so as to break up the monotony of his job. But before Wayne could reach for his mop, there came a sudden piercing noise.

 _"_ _Hi there, boys and girls! Welcome to Fredbear's Family Diner!"_

Wayne yelped and jumped like he was given a surprise birthday party. He whirled around and gasped in shock at the heart-stopping terror that stood no more than five feet away. It was an animatronic, worn and torn in many places and reeking to high heaven. There was no way it should have even been functional in its condition, but there it was clothed in shadow as if it was not meant to be there at all, but its shape was given away, silhouetted by flickering light.

The janitor stared in stunned silence and then turned his hazel eyes up to two bright pinpricks of light that appeared on its ghastly, grinning face. "What the...? How did— " he began, but the shrill, boyish voice, highly reminiscent of the Good Guy dolls from the Chucky movies, spoke again.

 _"_ _My name is Spring Bonnie and I'll make your day the happiest day ever!"_

The robot bunny turned side to side and pantomimed in jerky, rigid motions similar to that of other animatronics, but its performance felt wrong somehow; it was too _fluid_ , too _real_ , like a person _pretending_ to be an animatronic. And the eyes, the man noticed, were not just mere constructs of glass and coloured plastic - they were staring hungrily at him with pure, evil intent; starved with bloodlust.

"Oh my God." his lips trembled as he realized that everything he dismissed before as myth was all true and he was now a part of it.

He stumbled back in horror, but it was a second too late.

The shadowy shape burst forward like a pouncing boogeyman and erupted with a terrifying sound as if it were a demonic reptile.

 ** _"_** ** _PSSCCCCHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!"_**

Darkness extruded from the shadows into the shape of a powerful mechanical arm of greenish-gold. A hand reached out in the blink of an eye, clenched its rotted five fingers tightly around Wayne's wizened throat and squeezed hard.

The man's legs and ankles moved in a spastic dance as the life was choked out of him. His own hands grabbed at the one latched around his throat and tried to pry it loose, but the iron fingers would not budge even slightly. Springtrap merely watched his struggles with smug amusement and crushed even harder, causing his victim to wheeze shallow gasps and pained whimpers.

Wayne's feet lifted off the floor as Springtrap raised him higher into the air, squirming and kicking madly about. Even as his vision became hazy and his face grew hotter and redder from the impeded blood flow, Wayne never stopped pushing against the force that held him captive, but the more he pushed, the stronger the hand became. It was as if there was no limit to the animatronic's strength and it only kept growing; he was unable to summon the strength to save himself from danger.

Before Wayne could pass out, Springtrap eased up, reared back and slammed him down hard onto the tiled ground. The choked janitor could not even cry out in pain, his larynx was crushed, and there was the piercing, sickening sound of his skull fracturing and the back splitting open.

Springtrap now loomed devilishly over Wayne, pleased with his work, but not finished with the man staring weakly up into his sinister, glowing eyes. Wayne's mouth gasped open and shut like a fish out of water, fighting for oxygen that would never come, struggling to make a scream that no one would hear; all he could do was writhe and whimper pathetically through his crushed windpipe - completely helpless at the mercy of a monster.

After a moment's reckoning, Springtrap shot his arm down and grabbed at Wayne's throat, not to strangle him again, but to finish him off. The metal fingers dug round the man's trachea, pushing deeper and deeper into the folds of skin with jagged finger tips, the senior citizen's eyes widening more and more when they pierced flesh and blood oozed down his neck and uniform. With one continuous pull, Springtrap tore his throat out with the skin and muscles ripping like fabric, and ribbons of red spurting thick and hot and joining the pool from the crack in his skull. Blood was everywhere and spreading fast; painting walls and covering tiles, flowing like waves of crimson velvet, splatter by soft splatter.

Wayne Broadbent, in his twitching death throes, made one last horrible sound from the bloody mess that remained of his throat. It was the breath of life, a choked rushing of the wind from his rapidly filling lungs. For a moment, the garbled bubbling sounded like distorted noise from an idle radio, and then, just like that, it was gone and then he was no more.

Springtrap leered with perverse triumph at the bloodied body of the elderly janitor and watched the tide of red grow bigger and seep under his feet. He tossed his head back and let out a deep, raspy laugh of sadistic satisfaction. To kill was always so delicious and he relished every second of it. It was just like old times, but even better with his mechanical "enhancements".

"Heh heh... dumbass!" mocked Springtrap, admiring his red-soaked hand, pleased at the carnage it wrought and wanting more.

"Night guard..." he then vowed chillingly, letting his words slide into a frightening rumble. " _You. Are. Next!_ "

He looked back down at the corpse on the floor and then at the full bucket and mop. There was a little work to do for tonight.

As Springtrap began to drag his kill out of the corridor, another shape, this one extremely tall and bone thin with a gleaming white face, appeared unbeknownst to the killer rabbit. Foxy's head was the only one to witness its arrival.

The slender entity looked at the gruesome scene before it and spoke only one sentence through painted lips that never moved.

 _"_ _Wayne... I will help you..."_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Yipes! Springtrap is no joke when it comes to killing, and poor Wayne found that out the hard way. I wonder what The Puppet has in store for Mr. Broadbent? Will Douglas suffer the same fate of having his throat brutally ripped out? Find out when Night 3 rolls around. ;-)**

 **That said, I thought it would be cool and deeply unnerving to have Springtrap manipulating the Spring Bonnie suit's voice box and taunting his victims with it. I think it makes him far more creepy looking the way he does but talking in a voice like the Good Guy dolls from the Child's Play movies.**

 **Anyway, feel free to leave any questions, comments or reviews if you so desire. :-)**


	10. A Perfectly Logical Explanation

**A Perfectly Logical Explanation**

* * *

 **August 21 – 7:46 AM – 3462 Paxton Street – Starbucks Coffee**

"Neil, thank you for coming." greeted Douglas Blackburn, to his co-worker when he stepped into the coffeehouse. "I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't urgent."

Neil Cave, azure eyes filling with concern, sat down opposite the multiracial man at the small square table and spoke reassuringly, "Don't worry about it Doug, it's fine." and then continued, "I have some time before I meet up with Nina. What did you want to talk to me about? You sounded kinda distressed over the phone."

Douglas inhaled deeply and shut his eyes. Almost instantly, the frightening images rushed back to him.

Evil, from shadows made real, prowled the halls in search of blood and screams. Evil, that ogled him intensely with eyes like the center of a storm, hunted him in a game of cat and mouse. Evil, that reached out from whatever circle of Hell it came from, tormented him with a psycho smile and savoured his tempest of fear.

 _"_ _God... that smile!"_ shivered Douglas, remembering the sinister lagomorph's never-ending wacko grin greeting him with every camera check.

Neil noticed Douglas's on-edge demeanour and asked, "Are you OK, Doug? I think you need some sleep, you look like hell."

Douglas looked up tiredly with strained, bloodshot eyes and sputtered, "I've just _been_ through Hell, Neil!"

"What?" said a puzzled Neil, "What do you mean? What happened? Did someone try to break in? Why didn't you call the police?"

"And tell them what?" snapped Douglas, ignoring the other rapid-fire questions and sipping his extra strong black coffee. "That a zombie rabbit robot is trying to kill me?!"

"Wait, wait, wait..." sounded Neil, shaking his head in disbelief, "Can you say that again, please?"

Douglas looked Neil straight in his eyes and repeated the puzzling statement.

 _"_ _A zombie rabbit robot is trying to kill me."_

He paused, allowing Neil time to process his words, and then began again, "As soon as I got to work... this... this... _thing_ came after me! It was a damaged bunny animatronic with glowing eyes and... and holes all over its body... and it had this hideous smile that would. Not. Go. _Away_!"

Douglas looked down for a moment and saw his hands were shaking; his coffee made little black waves inside the half-empty Styrofoam cup with each little tremble. When he stopped himself and returned his focus, he could see Neil regarding him like a curious new specimen discovered deep from within a jungle.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" he sighed, gulping down another swig of the bitter-tasting brew.

"No, no Doug. Of course not." reassured Neil, easing back in his chair as he took in the news. "But you actually _saw_ Springtrap moving about the building?"

" _'_ _Springtrap'_?" came the confused reply.

"Yeah, that's what we call him now - Nina came up with the name. It's a combination of "springlock" and "deathtrap", and sounds way better than 'Spring Bonnie'."

"'Spring Bonnie'... like from the _"Fredbear & Friends"_ show. I read about those suits in the folder. They killed two employees and were decommissioned."

"Uh-huh, Miguel Peña and Tony Weatherhead. Skewered like shish kebabs in front of dozens of kids. Yeesh!"

"But that thing... _Springtrap_... it was alive somehow and it wanted to kill me! We gotta do something!"

"Hold your horses, Doug. There's no way Springtrap could've gotten out of the crate just like that. Did you see anything else weird in there? Like, maybe, oh... burnt-looking animatronics?"

Douglas paused and looked at Neil strangely.

"Funny you should say that... yes, I did." he confirmed, "I was jumped by a little boy animatronic that was charred black, and he hissed very loudly at me before disappearing. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack!"

Neil breathed a loud sigh of relief and closed his eyes. With an irritated shake of his head, he muttered in an annoyed tone, "Peter... I should've known... what a dick!"

"Peter?" said Douglas, confused, "What's he got to do with that? And by the way, where the hell is Jason? I left like ten messages on his phone. Why won't he answer?"

"He didn't tell you?" replied Neil somewhat quizzically, "He and Peter took his dad's private jet to Cancun for some two-day beach party. They should be back early tomorrow."

"Well, that solves one mystery." reckoned Douglas, deducing that his boss was ready to leave the airport when he left the hurried message last night, "But what makes you think Peter is behind what I saw?"

"Because _I_ saw the exact same thing last week." disclosed Neil, beginning his explanation. "Not long after we recovered the Toy animatronic shells, Peter thought it would be a funny idea to throw one of his lit spliffs into the vent system while we were setting up. Next thing I know, we were all getting pounced by scorched hallucinations of the characters."

"So you all were high and tripping out in there because of some joke Peter pulled?" understood Douglas in disbelief.

"Yup." divulged Neil. "I got Balloon Boy, Nina got Foxy, Peter had Freddy and Chica kept coming after Jason. When we got out of there into some fresh air, they all went away."

"I see..." trailed off Douglas, still not completely sure he was satisfied with the sensible explanation.

Neil continued some more, "Doug, chances are Peter threw another joint in there again to scare the shit out of you. You hallucinated seeing and hearing Springtrap creeping around the hallways, and then you thought you saw Balloon Boy jumpscare you." the man explained, stopping to cast an eye at the Starbucks' menu.

"But I didn't even know what Springtrap looked like before. The crate was all nailed up when I came in through the door... how did I imagine seeing him so perfectly if I never saw him to start with?" presented Douglas with his final doubt.

Neil shrugged, "Is the crate open now?"

"Yeah, the cover's on the ground." replied Douglas.

"Well, the answer's simple." stated Neil before postulating, "That was some old crate Jason got to transport Springtrap in. The cover obviously fell off after you left the hallway, you saw it and Springtrap on the camera when you checked, the weed in the air kicked in, and you started seeing things. Didn't you also say you watched _"Fredbear & Friends"_? That could've been a factor as well in what you saw, and if you didn't keep the vent system online, it would've made the hallucinations worse."

"Well, that does certainly tie up everything neatly." sighed Douglas in relief, "And the vent system did go offline at one point... God, I feel so stupid now!"

"Don't." Neil reassured. "You're not crazy and there's no such thing as ghosts. Peter may be a practical joker, but he's gone too far this time. When he gets back from Cancun, Nina and I are going to have a word with him."

"Oh no, please don't, Neil." begged Douglas with a dismissive wave of his hands. "I don't want there to be any drama because of me. It was just a joke. I can take a joke."

"Yeah, but this is too much, Doug." pressed Neil, "What if you flipped your shit and hurt yourself? What if something bad happened?"

"Well it didn't." asserted Douglas. "I'm not one to make a fuss. I want to just forget the whole thing and move on."

Neil, his expression concerned but accepting, stared at Douglas for a tense five seconds before answering calmly, "Alright... alright. I'll let it slide this time. But if he pulls another stunt like that again, I _will_ say something about it."

"Thanks Neil." Douglas understood, finishing his cup. "And thanks for coming."

"Anytime." replied Neil as he stood up from the table and checked the time on his phone. "I gotta run in a minute. You wanna a bagel or something? Might as well grab some breakfast while I'm here, and you look like you could use it. My treat."

"Sure Neil, thank you." welcomed Douglas, now beginning to feel a bit hungry. But then he remembered one last thing.

"Neil!" he called out when the twenty-eight-year-old went to line up.

Neil turned, "Yeah?"

"I almost forgot, I was hoping I could ask Jason this, but maybe you might know instead." he began, hesitating before asking earnestly, "Umm... does the name _'Vincent DiCarlo'_ ring a bell to you?"

Neil froze and raised a thick eyebrow.

"Where did you hear that name?" he questioned, resting a hand on the chair.

"Don't know... I-I just suddenly remembered it... I think it was a memory from long ago, before I moved to New York."

"Have you been reading the file I left you?"

"Yeah, I got halfway through it on my first night, but I didn't have a chance this time. Is he in the file somewhere?"

"A few bits and pieces... but what I do know is that Vincent was a day shift security guard for the franchise since Fredbear's Family Diner and was also the chief technician for the animatronics; he maintained, repaired and programmed them. It seems he was some kind of whiz where they were concerned."

"I see..."

"We found a lot of stuff belonging to him at the different locations we searched. Tools... a camera... some other personal effects... spare uniforms... in fact, what you're wearing is an exact replica of Vincent's uniform."

Douglas felt goose pimples on his flesh as he looked down at the clothes that adorned his body; he found it kind of creepy in a way, to be wearing copies of Vincent's clothes.

"What happened to him?"

"He disappeared in late 1993, shortly after Freddy Fazbear's Pizza closed down, never to be heard from again. Just like Barry Driscoll."

"Who?"

"Another security guard and long runner like Vincent that vanished without a trace as well. He's the one talking in all those training tapes we've found."

"Wow... guess Fazbear Entertainment couldn't hold onto security guards either."

"Sure seems that way. They were such an odd company... oh, and Doug?"

"Yeah?" responded Douglas, slipping his hands in his jacket pockets.

"If I were you, I would be very careful about sharing your experiences with other people. It could backfire horribly." warned Neil in a dead serious tone.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just continue reading the file and you'll find out. You're too nice to have something happen to you."

"Huh? Someth—"

"So what'll it be then? An Everything Bagel with extra cream cheese? Or do you like it buttered?"


	11. in the Mind of a Child

**Hope you all are enjoying the story thus far, in this latest chapter, we will learn more about the history of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza as well as the Bite of 87, which, in my timeline, takes place in FNAF2's location and not another restaurant. Jeremy is experiencing his horrors the same time the crying child in FNAF4 is going through his horrors with his bullying older brother.**

 **And don't worry, there is a good reason why Doug keeps having that repetitive dream at night.**

* * *

 **...in the Mind of a Child**

* * *

 **A Darkened Room**

 _Bonnie... Chica... Bonnie... Chica..._

 _The pizzeria, washed with the black of night, greeted Douglas with the familiarity of a second home when he awoke once more in the body of Freddy Fazbear. He knew he should have been used to the routine by now, but never knowing what lay within the darkness ahead kept him from embracing his dream's disturbing design._

 _As he moved Freddy's hollow but heavy head back and forth, surveying the night-covered dining area and the bear's bandmates, Douglas's mind was abuzz with a disconcerting sense of trepidation. Something was going to happen again this time. He just knew it. But what?_

 ** _"_** ** _HaaHAaaa...!"_**

 _The distorted laughter screeched resoundingly through his ears as the question tumbled itself around inside his thoughts, frustrating yet drawing him in further at the same time. The answer was just within tantalizing reach, but answers never came that easily, not for this... not for the dream that haunted him for the past twenty years._

 _Bonnie... Chica... Bonnie... Chica..._

 ** _"_** ** _HAaahaAahaHAaa... HahaHA...!"_**

"This is the third night in a row that I'm back here. There's no way this is a coincidence." _supposed Douglas, still engaged in the repetitive task._ "I know I don't believe in the paranormal, but I think this is connected to my new job somehow... and what about Vincent DiCarlo? Was he murdered too?"

 _When Douglas turned to face Chica, he stopped just like last time. Mild shock crept across his concealed face as he stared at the yellow chicken. She had moved again, and this time she seemed angry and almost threatening in her posture and expression, as if ready to throttle 'The Fazbears'' lead singer._

 _But something else surprised him._

 _Her orange beak was hanging agape, revealing her bottom row of blocky white teeth, frozen in a silent scream or a roar of rage. Whichever one, Douglas could not tell, but what he_ could _tell in the dimness was that her eyes were missing. Emptiness filled the sockets where the toothy bird's purple eyes once were, and they seemed to be getting darker by each passing second._

 _With baited breath, Douglas moved Freddy's head as fast as he could to his right and gasped._

 _Bonnie also peered at him with an identical pose and displayed the same empty but angry face with hollow sockets that lacked his cheerful rose-coloured eyes._

 _Somehow he knew. He knew that the two were angry_ at _him for something. Or were they angry at Freddy?_

"Why are you mad at me?" _Douglas wanted to scream, but he could not get the words out,_ "What did I do? How can I—"

 _The trio was now a quartet._

 _A fourth animatronic, a bear, the mirror image of Freddy Fazbear himself, stood directly in front of the stage, his expression identical to that of his chicken and rabbit counterparts and beholding the lead singer with reserved silence. But it was his colour, however, that made him stand out from the rest of the surroundings; it was a distinctive, subdued golden hue that appeared almost luminous in the night._

 _As Douglas took in the newest addition to the party, he felt an undercurrent of familiarity with the golden Freddy, but at the same time the feeling was not completely there either._

"Is this Fredbear?" _he asked himself, noting both the similarities and disparities together,_ "But he looks different from the one I saw in the file. Who is this, and why is he here all of a sudden?"

 ** _"_** ** _HAhAhaHaahahaaaaaaaahaAAaaaaaAaaaaaaa... !"_**

 _The end was almost near._

 _Static began to overtake his sight; the emotions of fear, confusion and helplessness that tugged at him for the past two decades now felt themselves overcome by an unfamiliar emotion invading the dreamy territory._

 _Anger._

"I didn't do anything!" _asserted Douglas for the first time to no discernible response from the animatronics,_ "Leave me alone! I did nothing to you! I did—"

 ** _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- BZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTT!_**

* * *

 **11:45 AM - Outside Fazbear's Fright**

"Hey guys, missed you last night!" Douglas called out to Neil and Nina as he rounded the corner to the back entrance of Fazbear's Fright.

Nina looked up from loading a box of papers into the black van and smiled, "Hey Doug. Good to see you."

"Yeah, sorry we left earlier." spoke up Neil, zipping up his hoodie. "Peter forgot his passport at home and we had to rush it to the airport for him."

"Hmmm, well I hope he and Jason had fun." scoffed Douglas, checking his watch and then speaking again, "Sure wish I could drop everything for a beach party."

"Me too, and I'm sure that after last night you could use one." Nina declared, slamming the van's door shut.

Douglas turned to Neil somewhat taken aback, "Wait, you told her, Neil?"

"Doug, chill." cut in Nina before her co-worker could respond, "I'm not going to tell Peter anything... this time. But he can't keep doing stuff like this. It's all fun and laughs until someone gets hurt, and I don't want to be held responsible if someone breaks their arm or leg because of a freak-out from pot smoke."

"I understand." conceded Douglas, wanting to avoid an argument as there was enough on his plate already, "In any case, is Springtrap still in there?"

"Yeah, he's still in the crate." answered Neil, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the grey building behind him. "The cover fell off on the ground just like I said it most likely did."

"Right." nodded Douglas, still uneasy.

"You wanna take a closer look at him? We have a few minutes." suggested Nina, pulling her ponytail tighter.

"Eh, no thank you." refused the security guard with a shake of his right hand. "That thing gives me the creeps; besides, I got some more reading to do."

Nina shrugged, "Suit yourself. Neil and I are gonna go grab a bite to eat. Maybe one night you could meet us early for a burger and fries?"

"I'd like that." accepted Douglas, sweeping strands of hair off his forehead. "I'll give one of you a call when I'm up for it."

"Oh, by the way, Doug," remembered Neil just as he opened the driver's door, "Did you by any chance see Wayne the janitor before you left? He's short and old with a white moustache and dark green jumpsuit."

"No." Douglas denied, shaking his head, "I ran out so fast I didn't see anyone else come in. Why do you ask?"

"Well, he usually comes to clean early in the morning, and he always calls to say when he is leaving, but today we heard nothing from him. I was wondering if maybe you saw him." divulged Neil, drumming an impatient tattoo against the van's hood.

"I didn't. But he probably has a good reason for not calling. I'm sure he will contact one of you soon." came the assurance.

"I hope so." said Neil. "He left behind his keys and we found his glasses in the corner by Foxy's head."

A pang of anxiety rippled through Douglas's stomach, but he quickly concealed his worry and instead answered, "Well, I'm sure he has a good explanation."

"Maybe..." murmured Neil, not so sure himself but accepting of the possibility.

"I should get going inside now. The building's not going to watch itself." said Douglas, changing the subject.

"Yeah, and that file's not going to finish reading itself either." pointed out Nina, sitting in the van and buckling up. "We'll be back later. Have a good night."

"Same to you, Nina, and you too, Neil." waved the brown-skinned man as he turned to face the door, not waiting to see his co-workers off.

As he heard the van start up, Douglas looked at the door he fled for dear life out of only hours before and inhaled deeply. "Get a hold of yourself, man." he whispered to himself. "You heard what Neil said: none of what happened last night was real. Get over it!"

Letting out a loud sigh, he slid the key in the lock and turned. His third night at Fazbear's Fright was just getting started.

* * *

 **12:00 AM – Inside Fazbear's Fright – Hallway 1**

Everything was as quiet as an undisturbed tomb until the loud slam of the rear exit door roused the dormant force from its slumber. Within its wooden sarcophagus, a thousand putrid pieces shifted and groaned themselves to life in a contorted ritual of resurrection, while the cold eyes of glass and metal burst open with a deathly pale glow that reflected their revealing light everywhere. A blood-crusted hand balled itself into a fist and then flexed its crudely worn fingers in thirst of more blood and soft flesh; the owner eager to quench both their needs.

Springtrap was ready to hunt again.

Though he no longer needed sleep, Springtrap shut himself off during the day as he did in the sealed room for twenty years. Whilst the two other employees came in for work, the memory of _him_ filled his dreams; a perfect fantasy to celebrate his first kill in so many years.

The old janitor was just the beginning. The other men and woman would soon follow, and then he would leave to search for his little one, but right now... the night guard was all he wanted.

Springtrap turned his ears to hear the sounds of shoes and chair wheels across the office floor, and hissed in an eerie tone, "It's game over for you tonight!"

The demented construct stepped out of his crate, looked up at the hallway's cameras and chuckled deeply. No red pinprick lights. He was not being watched.

Perfect.

His devious smirk proud and wide, his lumbering gait steady and efficient; Springtrap came out to play once more.

* * *

 **12:05 AM – The Office**

The folder sat patiently in the desk drawer where Douglas left it, tied together with its purple ribbon, and waiting to be read again, but the phone was ringing with another message.

"Let's see what they got for me this time." he said, pressing the speaker button and listening. The same voice of the friendly-sounding man with the Midwestern accent tumbled out of the speakers again. It was another of Barry Driscoll's training tapes.

 _"_ _Uh, hello, hello. Uh, for today's lesson, we will be continuing our training on proper suit-handling techniques."_ the man spoke.

Douglas shifted in his chair and rested his head on his palm. "This outta be good."

 _"_ _When using an animatronic as a suit, please ensure that the animatronic parts are tightly compressed and fastened by the spring locks located around the inside of the suit._ _It may take a few moments to position your head and torso between these parts in a manner where you can move and speak._ " instructed Barry as if he were a parent giving a child instructions.

"Sounds more like an iron maiden than a suit, if you ask me." remarked Douglas, pursing his lips.

Barry continued the lesson, _"Try not to nudge or press against any of the spring locks inside the suit. Do not touch the spring locks at any time. Do not breathe on the spring locks, as moisture may loosen them, and cause them to break loose."_

"Was Fazbear Entertainment _trying_ to get their employees killed or something?" commented Douglas in a disgusted tone, remembering the gruesome deaths of Miguel Peña and Tony Weatherhead.

 _"_ _In the case of the spring-locks come loose while you are wearing the suit, please try to maneuver away from populated areas before bleeding out, as to not ruin the customers' experience."_

"Fuck the customers' experience! Try childhood trauma and class-action lawsuits!"

 _"_ _As always, if there is ever an emergency, please go to the designated safe room. Every location is built with one extra room that is not included in the digital map layout programmed in the animatronics or the security cameras. This room is hidden to customers, invisible to animatronics, and is always off-camera."_

"Hmmm... a hidden safe room... that must be where they found that Springtrap thing at the old Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

 _"_ _As always, remember to smile; you are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."_

 ** _CLICK!_**

 _"_ _As always, remember to smile; you are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza!"_ Douglas mocked sarcastically in imitation of Barry's out-of-touch-with-reality tone. He turned his focus to the camera monitor, a lingering doubt nagging his mind as he contemplated the question: check it or leave it?

 _"_ _Ah, why the hell not?"_ he conceded after some thought, _"I am a security guard after all, might as well do my duty."_

He flipped through the cameras like the two nights before, noting nothing out of the ordinary, not even Springtrap prowling the hallways. But when he reached CAM 04, where Foxy's old and matted head was hung like a hunting trophy, something made him stop.

"What the..." trailed off Douglas at the sight he saw through the grainy static.

Glowing dots. Eyes. Three of them, white as cultured pearls, shone like the eyes of a cat against a blackened backdrop of twisted, disfigured limbs and torn wiring in a contorted mess of mechanical mayhem. It looked like the remnants of some sort of animatronic, but there was no rhyme or reason to its appearance. It was hideous to look at in all its nightmarish splendour, and made Douglas's skin crawl.

"I'm definitely seeing things." emitted the guard with a slight quaver in his voice. "There must be some weed smoke still left in this place."

He noticed the box of Toy animatronics in the corner of the room and saw the pink and white, red-cheeked head of the redesigned Foxy.

"Of course." he said, a self-indulgent smile curling his lips, "That's what I'm hallucinating! Toy Foxy!"

He looked back to the apparition appearing on his screen and saw that the head was the same shape and size as the one on the box, even possessing the two rows of sharp, pointy teeth, but it was upside down along with the whole mangled mess it was attached to. The thing hung from the hallway's ceiling like a giant spider, yet black and burnt like the Balloon Boy from last night.

"You are not real." declared Douglas firmly to the phantom animatronic, pointing at the screen in a reprimanding manner. "You are not here. You are nothing but a—"

 ** _SSSKKKKAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!_**

Douglas yelped and clamped his hands over his paining ears in fright at the loud, garbled cacophony that exploded into the room and rattled his bones; it screamed with the ferocity of a tropical hurricane and terrified the wits out of him.

"Fucking hell!" hollered Douglas through the blasting discord, thinking quickly and checking his maintenance panel to see a flashing red error message next to **"audio devices"**. Without wasting a single second, Douglas pressed the reboot button and waited with covered ears, until the distorted noise subsided and left sweet silence.

Douglas, panting, uncovered his ears and looked wearily around. For a split second he swore he saw the same sooty fox head with gleaming irises sink beneath the windowsill in reluctant defeat. He blinked and shook his head hard, trying to get rid of the ringing in his ears and the confusing sight that came and went with the subtlety of an atom bomb.

"The speakers must've malfunctioned somehow... messed up tape or something..." fretted Douglas, rationalizing the experience. "But that thing I saw in the hallway... could that have been the Mangle? Toy Foxy's mutilated remains out there?"

It made no sense to him, but neither did anything in his new job. It was as if he stepped through a looking glass into a new world that blurred the clear lines between fact and fiction; a world with no regard for reason and logic.

Contradictory emotions tugged at him; he knew the "right" answers, but did he believe them? And there was something else about the noise that blasted him unrelentingly, something... off... something... desperate and sad, almost... pleading. A call for help?

 _"_ _No. No. No"_ Douglas dismissed mentally, _"Remember what Neil said, Douglas, everything was just an illusion because Peter was playing a trick."_

He plugged in his iPod's earphones and picked a song:

 ** _"_** ** _Got a secret_**

 ** _Can you keep it?_**

 ** _Swear this one you'll save_**

 ** _Better lock it in your pocket_**

 ** _Taking this one to the grave_**

 ** _If I show you then I know you won't tell what I said_**

 ** _'Cause two can keep a secret if one of them is dead."_**

As The Pierces' slow, alternative lyrics hypnotically cranked themselves out, Douglas untied and opened the makeshift tome of Fazbear history and picked up from where he left off. The year of the publications now began at 1987 – the year he was born.

 **HELP WANTED – GRAND RE-OPENING!**

 **'** **THE FAZBEARS'' NEW MAKEOVER**

 **ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY TO HELP CATCH PREDATORS**

The first article was an advertisement for a security guard position for the newly re-opened Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, after its predecessor closed down in 1986 due the disappearances of the five children. It was not unlike the ad Douglas saw for Fazbear's Fright a few days ago.

A picture of the animatronics posing excitedly against a sparkly background took up most of the ad space. It appeared from their new look, along with info from other accompanying articles, that Fazbear Entertainment updated everything for the grand re-opening - a bigger building with more floor space, a wider variety of food and drink, a prize corner, a little merry go round, the works. The company, however, spent the most money designing and constructing newer, child-friendlier versions of _'The Fazbears'_.

The Toy animatronics were fashioned into sweet, innocent characters that looked as if they stepped right out of a preschooler's cartoon; a stark contrast to the gang's previous crude, blocky-looking incarnations.

Each was touched with pink or red rosy cheeks on their vividly-coloured bodies made from hardened plastic instead of the previous foamy material. Most of their joints were covered by smaller plastic spheres, giving them the vague look of an action figure or a posable reference mannequin.

But most impressive was their ahead-of-its-time software which was equipped with facial recognition systems linked to a criminal database as a means of detecting and warding off child predators. If a match turned up in their data banks, the animatronics would move to protect the children and alert the police. This highly sophisticated addition was a means to ensure that a repeat of the missing children incident could not happen again.

 ** _CLANK!_**

A loud metallic sound broke Douglas's concentration and he jumped back in his seat.

"What was that?" he gasped loudly, looking around for the source of the noise. Without a moment's hesitation, Douglas opened up the camera monitor and cycled through the fuzzy screens. Nothing.

 ** _"_** ** _Look into my eyes, now you're getting sleepy_**

 ** _Are you hypnotized by secrets that you're keeping?_**

 ** _I know what you're keeping_**

 ** _I know what you're keeping."_**

The security guard shook his head and picked up some more articles.

 **BELOVED DUO TAKE TO STAGE AGAIN**

 **HORRIFIC ACCIDENT AT FREDDY FAZBEAR'S PIZZA!**

 **BITE VICTIM DIES AFTER SIX DAYS - PERPETRATORS CHARGED!**

 **ROBOTS SCRAPPED – FREDDY FAZBEAR'S IS CLOSING**

In the few short weeks following the re-opening, business did not boom as Fazbear Entertainment hoped it would, so, in an effort to win back the old crowd, the company brought out a newly restored Fredbear and Spring Bonnie to be a side act to _'The Fazbears'_. Things quickly picked up and it looked as if the new restaurant would flourish, but one fateful day - May 9th, 1987 – changed everything forever: a horrific accident involving Fredbear and a child's head being split open.

Douglas paused, the music drawled on, _"The Bite of 87..."_ he read in hushed tones as his brown eyes widened at the yellowed photograph.

Fredbear, flanked by Spring Bonnie, stood with his mouth stretched open as if yawning or screaming in abject horror from what he had done... or been made to do. The wide jaw was broken and several of his blocky teeth littered the ground - no doubt the handiwork of firemen and paramedics – but his maw, his whole face, was splashed darkly with a syrupy liquid that dripped onto the stage and ran down his front. Blood. Even Spring Bonnie did not escape the grisly paint job.

Douglas gagged from nauseating disgust when he saw strings and strips of flesh and brain tissue hanging from the robotic ursine's teeth. The whole scene resembled the aftermath of a vicious attack by a wild animal, as if Fredbear turned into a real bear and tore a helpless animal to death. Masks of dissonant serenity remained plastered on the singing duo's faces, oblivious to the carnage, and even seeming pleased.

"I think I'm gonna be sick!" groaned Douglas, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, swearing that he could even smell the blood.

"How did this happen?" he then asked aloud, looking back down at the article, trying to avoid the gruesome snapshot, to find some answers.

Two names caught his attention: Timothy Etan Richardson and Paul Kenneth Richardson. Brothers.

"A prank?" said Douglas, tapping the arm of his chair with his fingernails in consternation at what he was reading. "Kenny didn't expect Fredbear to bite down so hard... he only wanted to scare his little brother on his birthday. The four of them lifted poor Timmy up and stuffed his head into Fredbear's mouth to give him a 'kiss'."

The man stopped for a moment to compose himself again. The wanton cruelty made no sense; how 13-year-old Kenny Richardson could do something so wicked to his innocent 8-year-old brother baffled Douglas. Even if he did not foresee the consequences, it was still a heartless act, made worse by witnesses reporting seeing Timmy crying and screaming, begging not to go near Fredbear as Kenny and his friends dragged him to the stage.

"Monsters!" censured Douglas, shaking his head in disgust. "I hope they all got what they deserved. Timmy is dead because of them, and I hope they're never allowed to breed!"

 ** _CLANK!_**

Douglas jumped again when another metallic noise derailed his train of thought. It was much closer this time.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice rising, about to break like a violin string wound too tight.

No one there.

He ignored it and focused on the folder again, _"It's all in your head. It's all in your head. It's all in your head..."_

* * *

 **Yes. I'm a fan of Pretty Little Liars and I do love the opening song. Considering how things will play out in this story, it will make this song highly ironic.**

 **And like with the first five missing kids, Timothy "Timmy" Etan Richardson is named after three murdered children, while the older brother Paul Kenneth "Kenny" Richardson is named after two notorious murderers. See if you can figure out which ones.**

 **As always, feel free to review, ask questions, leave feedback, etc. It will be much appreciated. :-)**


	12. The Hidden Secret Revealed

**Author's Note:**

 **The last bit about the Bite of 87 is explained here and Doug and Springtrap finally come face to face, but it does not end like how he thinks it would. Let's just say it will get more and more disturbing from here on.**

 **And I think I might've inadvertently written some fetish fuel in this chapter. O.O  
**

* * *

 **The Hidden Secret Revealed**

* * *

 **1:25 AM** ** _-_** **Hallway 6 – Near CAM 02**

Spingtrap sniggered maliciously when he saw office light's warm glow through the window up ahead. It was too easy. The night guard put up no resistance; no child's audio to lure him away, no sealed vents. Nothing. The twisted hare was almost disappointed.

Almost.

As he walked quietly, Springtrap thought of the different ways to kill him with his newfound animatronic strength, visualizing each and every gory method.

 _"So many ways to kill him... but how? Maybe I can tear his throat out? No, I already did that with the old guy. Or maybe I will rip him limb from limb?"_ Frustrated, he stood there thinking about how to kill the guard. Then, Springtrap laughed as he gleefully contemplated his most grisly idea yet. _"I got it... I'll slowly pull the bastard's head off and crush it beneath my foot! His screams and cries of agony will be music to my ears!"_

He now stood right beside the window, hidden from view, but able to hear paper being moved about and tinny sounds of music drifting from the office through his enhanced hearing.

Springtrap flexed his bloodied fingers once again and smiled evilly, "End of the line for you, night guard!" he rasped, slowly stepping out from behind the wall to see his victim to cower in his terrifying glory.

* * *

 **1:30 AM – The Office**

"Well, looks like those little sons of bitches got put away for a long time." stated Douglas with a smile of smug satisfaction. "After all the damage and pain they've caused to poor little Timmy and the restaurant, they deserved those eight years in juvie... locked up like the animals they are!"

Douglas set the clipping down like yesterday's trash, disgusted but relieved to be done with the mess that was the Bite of 87. The damage done by Fredbear's jaw to Timmy Richardson's skull ensured the total loss of his brain's frontal lobe; it was a miracle that he managed to hang onto life support for the next six days.

But despite all evidence to the contrary, Kenny Richardson pleaded that it was not his fault and someone put him up to it, that no harm but a good scare would come to his kid brother if he shoved Timmy's head in Fredbear's mouth. He never intended death or injury.

Any excuse to save his own skin was Douglas's only dismissive thought.

"One hour and thirty minutes down," sighed Douglas disinterestedly, checking his watch, "Four-and-a-half hours to go."

He rubbed his already tired eyes and exhaled with a deep, bored yawn before reaching for one more article, the title, bold and defiant, read:

 **NEW LIFE FOR TROUBLED CHAIN!**

But it was neither the lettering nor Fazbear Entertainment's refusal to lie down and die that made Douglas freeze in his seat and the world around him shatter to pieces like so many shards of glass. It was a photograph, small and unassuming, of a man, wrapped by lines of faded print, that triggered something deep within his mind. He looked at the tiny lettering beneath the man's picture and gasped when the letters spelt out a familiar name: _Vincent DiCarlo_.

Douglas felt a wind rush through his chest. It was colder than the night air outside. He forced himself to breathe again, _"Vincent..."_ poured the muted words from his lips as he studied the picture.

Vincent resembled a major Hollywood heartthrob with his good looks: an oval-shaped face covered with smooth flawless skin like a sheet of perfectly-pressed cloth, a sharp and well-defined square jaw, a chin with a slight cleft, and patrician cheekbones that highlighted the dimples in his big but charming, confident smile.

On either side of his straight nose were two deep, catastrophic eyes of diamond-cutting intensity arched over with trim, distinctive eyebrows that only added to their piercing depths. Long, dark, thick hair pulled into a low ponytail draped itself casually over his shoulder which formed part of a tall, lean body type.

For some reason, Douglas could not keep his breath working right as he beheld the image of the elusive former security guard. This was the man he saw in his vision a few days ago, the one who grabbed his shoulder and called his name in the dream-memory. It had to be!

The article with Vincent spoke at some length that despite the tragedies to befall the latest restaurant, the company was looking to open up a smaller, newer Freddy Fazbear's Pizza in the old location previously left to rot. A direct quote from Vincent at the end read:

 _"_ _Despite some terrible setbacks and recent tragedies, the Fazbear brand is still as strong as ever."_ he determined in the piece. _"We will scrap the Toy animatronics and refurbish the old ones for our next opening. These characters have a special place in the hearts of many and 'The Fazbears' won't be singing their swan song just yet."_

"So this new restaurant was the one I went to as a child... and that was where I knew Vincent from." understood Douglas, eyes never taking his eyes off the picture, "But why is everything so—"

He raised his head and sighted a dark shape in the hall outside the window with glowing eyes and a savage smile. Springtrap!

Douglas gasped and his hands flew down in shock to grip the armrests when the twisted construct of rotted fur and complex machinery opened its eyes fully, making it seem as if the bloodthirsty grin was growing wider in triumph, and then raised a scraggly hand to wave tauntingly at him.

"No! You're not real! You're not real!" cried Douglas, closing his eyes and shaking his head wildly, desperately trying to banish the animatronic from his sight.

 **BANG! BANG! BANG!**

The glass pane in the window rattled, trembling like a plucked harp string, when the demented rabbit struck its fist against the transparent surface. Springtrap heard his babbling mantra and responded with resounding certainty: this was no illusion. This was real and there was no escape.

Douglas leapt out of his chair. The wheeled seat crashed to the ground and the folder tumbled from his lap and spewed its contents across the floor as he beheld Springtrap's frightening face. It was the first time he saw it for real, and there was enough light to detail an unspeakably horrific mixture of fun and fantasy, malice and macabre, distilled from nightmares into a monster so set on its evil path that it would stop at nothing.

Springtrap, he realized, could simply crush him as if he were a cockroach or swat him like a troublesome fly, with nothing holding it back. There was no conscience behind those murderous eyes. No guilt or self-restraint or regard for consequences embedded in its rotten soul. Not one ounce of care that beat within a blackened heart. It existed solely for the thrill of the kill, nothing more - a concentration of every wicked deed and sinful desire.

And the current desire written in those perverse, glittering eyes was death. Slow, torturous, blood-soaked death.

Douglas and Springtrap stood for a few tense seconds locked in a staring contest, a battle of wills that no human could hope to win, his heart only thumping louder and harder when the former Spring Bonnie raised its hand again and placed it on the window. The mouth moved its lipless smile up and down in speech. _"I found you now, ol' buddy ol' pal!"_ chirped the saccharine, syrupy voice, mocking Douglas as it did the night before, _"Ha ha ha! I'm gonna getcha!"_

Then the moldered rabbit turned, hand still on the window, and moved slowly down the rest of the hall, dragging its scraggly fingers across the glass and making a loud skin-crawling screech as they raked along the window.

Death was coming to claim his latest victim: him.

Panicking, Douglas frantically looked around for something – anything - he could use for a weapon or maybe escape with, but there was no other door out of the room. There was the vent, large enough for him to crawl through, but he had to stall the advancing animatronic.

Thinking quickly, with his adrenal glands pumping full throttle, Douglas dashed forward and gripped the edge of the large office desk and pushed with nearly all his might. The table groaned and creaked with every move he forced it to make; it was heavy, maybe not heavy enough to stop Springtrap, but better than nothing.

"Come on, come on!" grunted Douglas, keeping his eye on the window and giving a yelp when he saw that Springtrap was no longer there. "Oh God, please!" he cried, and pushed even harder.

The desk now blocked the door. Douglas grabbed the box with the Toy animatronic heads, a paper plate doll fluttering to the ground, and placed it on top against the entryway. He grabbed the red and white electric guitar, Toy Bonnie's no doubt, and held it up like a baseball bat; inside, he knew it would not do much good.

Slow metal footsteps approached the entrance and Douglas stepped back, still brandishing the guitar when Springtrap came into view. He stood there in the doorway illuminated from behind, eyes glinting like cut diamonds and filled with murderous intent.

"Get back! Get away from me!" warned Douglas, pointing the guitar at the seven foot monstrosity and trying to sound threatening. His voice quaked, "T-t-take one step... take one f-f-fucking step and-and I swear I'll... I'll smash with you with this!"

Springtrap stopped his stride and stared at the night guard, a little pipsqueak, an insect, threatening him. Threatening him? His executioner? The night guard was either really brave or really stupid. It was amusing, truthfully, but it made no difference.

His face flushed and sweating, Douglas felt his heart sink and his knees tremble when a deep and rumbling laugh wheezed out from within Springtrap like a bellows expelling air. It was different than the childish animatronic voice box, and much more sinister and demonic in tone, yet clear that his threats made no impact.

Douglas barely had time to jump out of the way when Springtrap lifted and placed one bare metal foot against the edge of the desk and pushed lightly, but with enough force to send it shooting across the room like a bullet and crashing into the tiled wall on the other side, blocking his only other escape, the vent. Frantic, the petrified man tried swinging the guitar wildly at the approaching animatronic that was looking to corner him, but only to have Springtrap grab it mid-swing and yank it from his grip.

He stepped back, his hands to his face, hysterical as his back flattened against the wall. Only the ferocity of his own breathing was all that was left for him as Springtrap walked nonchalantly over the scattered papers on the floor, crossing the room in three steps. Man and machine were now right up against each other, separated by mere inches, and Springtrap, naked, smiling and beatific, loomed over him, savouring his victory and the terror pumping through the heart of his prey. It was just like old times, but even better now.

Douglas saw the drab olive colour – the colour of death – and smelt its awful stench, and this time he could see dark pink chunks and stringy bits of strange material within the suit's many holes. What was that stuff? Mold? Animatronic bits and pieces? Dead vermin? But there was no time to think when the bulk of Springtrap suddenly lunged forward, making the same bone-chilling hiss as the burnt Balloon Boy last night.

 ** _"_** ** _PSSCCCCHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!"_**

A red-stained hand lashed out to grasp his neck with inescapable, yet effortless force. It lifted him up more than foot into the air, his feet kicked and his hands tried to force open the fingers clenched round his throat, but it was useless. Douglas opened his mouth to scream, but only a pathetic whimper came out. He was a goner.

 _"_ _Finally!"_ thought Springtrap, congratulating himself, _"And now to finish him..."_

The night guard's body went limp in his hand with tears streaking down his brown cheeks from eyes closed tightly shut.

He accepted his fate.

Just as Springtrap was about to bring down his other bloodied hand to twist the fragile neck off its shoulders, a single sentence, one last desperate plea made him freeze completely.

 _"_ _P-please, don't... don't hurt me..."_

 _"_ _Those words."_ Springtrap realized, pausing his attempted murder as they rippled within his mind and prodded distant memories. _"So long ago... so familiar... could it be?"_

He released the man, watching curiously as he crumpled to the floor in a sputtering, choking heap, and then knelt down, bringing his grinning face very closely to the trembling night guard and studying him hard.

Douglas was so frightened that he could hardly move his arms and legs, " _What is he doing?"_ he wondered as Springtrap eyed his face carefully and took his features in, _"Why hasn't he killed me yet? Why is he looking at me like that?"_

His breath caught in his throat when Springtrap placed a crimson finger underneath his chin and gently turned it so that their eyes were locked with one another, and almost as if to answer his questions, something strange happened. A sound like a sigh broke the tension-filled room like the coming of the dawn, and Douglas was surprised yet still terrified to watch the expression of Fazbear's Fright's star soften and relax, and his smile transform from monstrous to almost... paternal?

A throaty, baritone voice, gravelly and hoarse, spoke up, "You..."

Douglas moved his mouth to speak, but again no sound came out.

"It's you... so long..." continued Springtrap, removing his red finger from the young man's chin before cupping the side of his face with his palm and giving a gentle squeeze. "I've been waiting... for so long."

"W-w-what? I-I..." stammered Douglas, confused and feeling dizzy from all that was happening.

"And now... you've come back to me..." whispered Springtrap, now running his fingers tenderly through the straight brown locks and stroking the soft strands.

Oh, how he missed doing that.

The ceiling swam before Douglas's eyes. Expanding... contracting... expanding... it was all too much for him.

"You've come back to me..." repeated Springtrap, withdrawing his hand from Douglas's head and reaching with both appendages to his own, "Don't you remember?"

Douglas felt faint and sick with nausea, but still perplexed at the same time, "Wh-who..." he started as Springtrap pushed his fingers between his wide, blunt teeth and pulled his jaws apart in opposite directions, prying the bunny head wide open and finally revealing his hidden secret.

A head. A human head rotted and mummified into a sickening embodiment of death in its entire unfettered, hideous dimension.

The skin, reddened and leathery with age, pulled itself tightly over a skull almost split horizontally across the nose and run through with metal skewers, the bars of the springlock suit. The jaws were forced open in a never-ending scream and revealed a row of mostly missing teeth and the head's prominent cleft chin. But most frightfully, the tennis ball-sized animatronic eyes were forcibly jammed into the skull's eye sockets to give it a deeply unnerving bug-eyed look.

Douglas could do nothing but stare back at the horrifying sight mere centimeters from his face; his heart thundered and he could not stop hyperventilating from pure terror. He wanted it to end, to wake up from this nightmare that kept getting worse and worse. The room was spinning and everything around him was fading to black.

The head within Springtrap's open maw turned slowly to stare at him, its appearance rendered more sinister by blinking red lights. The gaping hole that was its mouth slowly curved upwards with a dry, cracking sound into a twisted smile, and out burst forth a terrifying revelation.

"IT'S ME... Little Dougie!"

The skull's proud proclamation, laced with euphoric delight, was his tormented mind's final straw. The fast approaching tiled floor was the last thing he saw when the world around him slipped away into a black, eternal void as he lost consciousness. A final phrase cast itself like a lifeline into the bottomless pit.

"I am still here."

Springtrap stood up and looked down in satisfaction at the crumpled, blacked out heap that was Douglas Blackburn. "My Little Dougie, fate brought us back together..." he declared in a pleased voice. Springtrap looked at his bloodstained hands next; then at Douglas; then to the entrance where the exit lay just mere meters away. Freedom!

He bent down to scoop the unconscious security guard up in his arms, but a voice, cold and commanding, sounded out over the beeping alarm.

 _"_ _Stop."_

Springtrap froze and spun around at the familiar voice. Sighting the lanky, black and white gaunt figure of Marionne the Marionette standing behind him, he snorted scornfully and stood to his full height.

"Been a while..."

The painted face spoke through its open red-lipped mouth, "It has... I knew you would come back. You always do."

"I have what I want now. You will _not_ interfere." answered Springtrap, allowing the top half of his head to clack back shut like a gunshot to rap home his point.

Marionne did not even flinch, "You will not have him. Not after all the things you've done to him... to us."

"And who's going to stop me? You?" challenged Springtrap, venom dripping from his every word. "Look at me. I'm stronger than I was before. You can't hurt me now."

At that moment, the spectre of a dull, golden Freddy bear animatronic, worn and missing an ear, materialized beside Marionne. It greeted the evil force with salutations of an empty smile and eyeless stare, but let Springtrap know he was unwelcome in his unmoving presence.

Springtrap scoffed, "Hmph! You've really scraped the bottom of the reject bin for this one."

Both bear and marionette said not a word in response.

"Pathetic." sneered the decayed rabbit, turning back to where Douglas lay sprawled on the floor. "I'm taking him now."

"You will not." shot back Marionne, never breaking his soft and calm monotone. He raised one spidery hand in the direction of the camera monitor which flicked open to life and shifted the view over to CAM 08.

 _"_ _Hello!"_

Springtrap's body instantly stiffened and his ears shot straight up at attention, the Pavlovian response triggered by Balloon Boy's voice, a tantalizing siren song to Spring Bonnie's leftover programming.

"Grrrr...ahhh!" grunted Springtrap, fighting the impulses, trembling, conflicted by half of him wanting to go to the source of the voice and the other half trying to stay and resist the call. He struggled to turn his head, managing to lift a convulsing arm and point angrily, "Y-you... fucking...b-b-brats!" he growled as the command " **FOLLOW THE VOICE** " blinked obtrusively before his narrowed eyes, "D-dougie... i-i-is... mine! Y-you cannot keep u-us apart! AARRGHHH!"

The suit's programming finally won the battle and Springtrap, defeated, loudly clomped off to Hallway 2, muttering under his breath all the way.

"He is starting to resist the suit's programming." observed Marionne placidly, hovering over to the camera monitor to see Springtrap standing motionlessly through CAM 08's crackly feed, pure hatred burning in his silver eyes. "Eventually, nothing in here will hold him back." he continued, casting a glance at Douglas's collapsed form.

Golden Freddy appeared beside his friend, but this time, he, too, spoke through a stationary mouth. "What do we do, Adam?" he asked timidly in a squeaky child's voice.

Marionne perked his head up at the sound of his name, his old name, a remnant of his past, and looked down at the one he helped put back together so many years ago. "He needs to see all that happened, Timmy." replied the slim gift-giver softly, also calling the ghostly ursine by his former identity. "All this time imprisoned, and Vincent is now more evil and determined as ever. He will try to claim him again."

"We cannot let Vincent do that, Adam." determined Golden Freddy, barely above a whisper, remembering Springtrap's human self and his wicked deeds.

"No." affirmed Marionne before continuing, "But we can't do it alone."

With a press of the **"Play audio"** button to keep the predator at bay, Marionne looked towards Freddy Fazbear's remains outside the door and cycled through the cameras to eye each member of the old animatronic gang: Bonnie, Chica and Foxy.

"We need your help. _All_ of you." beseeched the puppet, motioning a spindly arm to the fainted man, " _He_ needs your help. Help him remember. Please." **  
**

* * *

 **The plot thickens! It seems that Springtrap/Vincent shares a bigger, deeper connection to Douglas than he knows and it seems to tie back to his missing memories in 1993. Could he have been a child that got away from Vincent's murder spree and he wants to finish what he started? Or was there something more insidious at work?**

 **And it looks like the ghosts of Adam Kilbride and Timmy Richardson are inhabiting the Puppet and Golden Freddy. They have a much bigger involvement in the story just like in the games' overarching lore.**

 **As I said before, for the various supporting characters I wrote, I imagined various Hollywood actors in the roles. For the role of Vincent DiCarlo AKA the Purple Guy, I strongly pictured Wes Bentley with longer hair in the role. For a character like Purple Guy, I wanted someone who was very good-looking, charming and quite friendly and charismatic on the surface, but was a brutal, psychopathic monster on the inside with no qualms about killing others, especially children, to get what he wanted.**

 **Wes Bentley plays these kinds of characters perfectly because he has this look about him that makes him seem friendly and harmless in one instant, but can turn psychotic in an instant. What really does it is his eyes which are deep and powerful and very expressive. So Wes is who you have to picture when Vincent appears in the story.**

 **Until next time! Cheers!**


	13. Night Terrors

**Night Terrors**

* * *

 **A Child's Bedroom – 12:00 AM**

 ** _DING DONG DING DING..._**

The distant echoes of a chiming grandfather clock lifted the sleeping boy from his dreamless slumber and continued dutifully etching each moment in time with a tick and a tock like nothing else mattered. But to the shapes within the shadows of the night, something did matter.

Hunger.

The most of basic of needs.

A need to be fed and satiated of that primal desire.

That instinctive craving for sustenance.

An inescapable lust for sweet flesh and succulent juices.

Hunger; raw and seeking nourishment; prowled the wooden halls and padded heavily on unsuspecting floor boards. It dwelt in sharp corners and hid in empty crevices, waiting... seeking... finding... the right window of opportunity to strike. Fear was its daily bread, and the bountiful crop of humanity's bane and blessing would soon come to flourish within the bedroom; for it was many and counted on the precious harvest it sowed.

Now it was ready to reap.

Inside, six-year-old Dougie Blackburn sat up in the twin-sized bed and cast his sleepy eyes at the surroundings; a child's room.

It was decently large, perfectly square in floor space and carpeted in cerulean, a darker compliment to the Damask patterning of the powder blue silk wallpaper. Two white doors stood on opposite ends of the bedroom, flanking a closet with bi-fold doors hung with shirts and empty hangars. There were no windows in the room, only the two doors that were slightly ajar provided ventilation, along with a tiny air vent on the left wall.

Dougie yawned and looked to his right to see a small Freddy Fazbear plush nestled loyally beside him. He smiled and picked it up, hugging his old friend tightly, "It was just a bad dream." he sighed reassuringly to the toy with its big blue eyes that seemed to glow in the encompassing darkness, "I was a grown-up, and then a big scary bunny came after me, and..."

 ** _THUMP!_**

A dull sound, like someone dropping a heavy stack of books, tore his attention from the cotton-stuffed companion. Dougie jumped and snapped his head towards the left-hand door. It came from outside.

"H-hello?" squeaked the boy, hoping it was one of his parents coming to check up on him. "Hello? Mummy? Daddy?" he called out again, this time louder. The total silence sent a shudder down his spine.

 ** _THUMP!_**

The sound repeated.

Dougie grabbed the purple flashlight from his bedside table, ignoring the vase with pink and white tulips, and pushed the triangular-patterned blankets off his legs.

"Stay here, Freddy." he instructed to the unresponsive stuffed bear and slowly slid off the bed.

His thumb clicked the button on and a bright fluorescent beam danced illustriously across the white popcorn ceiling and bounced between starry decorations and hung-up pictures. As he made his way forward, he took note of the strewn toys on the ground and the tall dresser with a purple fan perched on top.

This was not his room. Where was he?

The grandfather clock chimed again.

 _"_ _GET OUT..."_

A voice, deep, but whispery and mysterious, drifted through the open door and startled him. His knees began to tremble. There was a breathing that was not his own. Dougie gathered his courage and rushed towards the door; he pushed it open wider and peered down the hall with his flashlight to expose the source of the thumping.

The penetrating beam washed over a purplish configuration lurking at the end of the corridor. Its looming shape, twisted and exaggerated beyond the realms of realism, glowered balefully at him with eyes sharp as cut glass. It hissed in pain from the light like a stricken vampire and retreated back round the corner, the floorboards protesting sharply with the dark burden as it uttered its words more forcibly this time.

 _"_ _GET OUT!"_

Dougie squealed in fright at the monstrosity slinking away. Was that Bonnie the bunny? Bonnie was after him! Bonnie wanted him... wanted to kill him! He just knew it!

He looked for an escape and spotted his flashlight down the opposite end of the hallway behind him and saw a dead end with four doorways, two on each side. But seated on a chair under a window was another sinister sight.

Balloon Boy, clad menacingly in a red and purple striped shirt and cap instead of his usual softer tones, sat limply on the white wooden chair. His ball-like hands were replaced with long, spidery, talon-like claws and he stared blankly at the carpet below with blood red, blue-lidded eyes.

"What... why..." started Dougie, only to be cut off when the hellish balloon giver lifted his head to stare at him, no doubt disturbed by the light.

 _"_ _HE'S FOUND YOU..."_ Balloon Boy wheezed, pointing a thin finger at the child before erupting with a light, throaty chuckle that showed off two rows of spiky teeth.

Dougie screamed and slammed the door shut. There was no lock to turn. He was at the mercy of the monsters that could smash through in a heartbeat and tear him to shreds!

"Freddy!" he cried, turning to face the bed for the stuffed toy, "Freddy, we have to hi—"

His Freddy plush was no longer there. Instead, his place was taken by a twitching, gnarled substitute that hissed and spat like an agitated cat from the flashlight's glaring light. As quickly as he had seen it, it was gone in the blink of an eye.

Dougie jumped back and tumbled onto the ground; the flashlight fell from his hand and rolled closer to the door on the right. The thumping sounds in the left hallway came again, this time louder and closer. He had to go now! He scrambled to his feet awkwardly, grabbed the flashlight and raced to the door, praying that the monsters were not on the other side and there was a slim enough chance to escape. He shoved it open and froze in his tracks.

An ugly, yellow, metallic shape; massive and powerful; hideous with a splash of pink, guarded the end of the hallway, blocking Dougie's escape and scaring the tiny child even more. It looked vaguely like Chica the chicken.

The demented Chica spoke, baring three rows of razor sharp teeth within an orange beak.

 _"_ _RUN!"_ she thundered with resounding fury.

"Nnnnoooooo!" shrieked the boy when Chica moved to strike him down, only to dart out of sight when seared by the light. Dougie paused in the doorway, feeling odd, as if someone was boring into the back of his skull. Distorted sounds like a radio started to crackle up above, and slowly, very slowly, Dougie turned and focused his beam on the ceiling behind him.

What he saw made his brown eyes go round with fright.

A fox's head, pink and white, weather-beaten and dilapidated, surrounded by a tangled, moving web of wires and metals, gears and bent frames, inched along the white ceiling and left behind a slick, dark trail of dripping fluids.

Mangle!

It craned its head and looked down at the child with its lone fiery eye, soon joined by a second head stripped of its covering.

 _"_ _HIDE!"_ garbled Mangle's warning through a broken voice box.

Dougie did not need to be told twice. He screamed again and slammed the door, dashing to the center of the room in a panic. Trapped!

 _"_ _What do you want?! Go away!"_ he yelled hysterically as the sounds grew closer to the doors and tears streamed down his face. "Hide! I have to hide!" he decided quickly, pointing his flashlight at the bed and freezing when he saw that the little demented teddy bear that took his Freddy plush's place was back, and this time it brought company, two more little bears, to join the party.

They each disappeared within seconds when hit by the light, and a sudden noise made Dougie spin around before he could scamper under the bed. He saw the closet door shift and creak audibly. Something was inside with him!

Dougie hesitated. He breathed hard for a moment to stop from panicking, and then darted to the closet doors, wondering if his salvation lay inside or if more torment awaited him. He hesitated again and then gripped the little porcelain knobs, slowly pulling them apart to reveal what was inside.

 ** _GRRAAWW—!_**

A giant - furry and feral - rose up inside the small space and moved to tackle the boy. It was Foxy, his crimson fur withered and torn from one extremity to the other, with hateful eyes burning like hot coals and outshining the boy's flashlight. A long metallic tongue snaked out of his mouth and slithered over pointy canines, flicking obscenely at the child in search of his taste.

Little Dougie just barely managed to force the doors closed over the fox captain's snout, cutting him off mid-snarl and preventing his hook from tearing his jugular out by just a hair's breadth.

 _"_ _YOU WILL NEVER BE SAFE..."_ rasped the vulpine abomination from within.

"Leave me alone!" sobbed the despairing boy. He stood hugging himself and whimpering when the monsters outside grew restless and all three doors rattled with tornado-like force. They were playing with him, enjoying his fear, relishing his torment.

 _"_ _Please! Stop it!"_ Dougie begged despondently, curling up pitifully on the floor, praying for it all to be over.

And then, just like that, everything stopped.

Dougie panted heavily for a few moments and slowly sat up.

Silence.

Only the ambient chirping of crickets outside and the grandfather clock's chiming remained.

He got to his feet and looked around, checking the still doors, while his little chest rose and fell back to a normal rate.

Nothing.

All was quiet.

"Are... are they gone now?" he whispered, wiping sweat from his forehead with the soft cotton of his T-shirt.

But as soon as he finished, the silence was swept away by a low and slow reverberating sound that chilled his blood to freezing point.

 ** _HOO HOO HOO... HA HA HA HA!_**

Laughter. Mocking, sadistic, confident and infinitely evil in its tone. Whatever made it knew it had the child right where it wanted: in its clutches with no hope of escape or reprieve from a bloody death.

As the bellowing laughter continued unfolding throughout the house, Dougie realized right away that the evil cackling was not from any of the other nightmare animatronics that terrorized him. This was different and belonged to something larger. Much larger.

And if things could not get any worse, the flashlight, his only source of protection against the horrors hunting him, began to flicker, allowing the darkness leeway to creep into his sanctuary.

"No, no, no, _no!_ " pleaded Dougie fruitlessly, shaking and slapping the flashlight with his hands to keep the batteries going. "Please don't go out! Please don't—"

Total darkness.

Dougie stood frozen like a statue in an endless black cave, paralyzed with fear, daring not to move a muscle. Then there was only the sound of his breathing, alone in the darkness. But as his eyes adjusted, he began see outlines of shapes and silhouettes shuffling around him, unhindered inside their limitless element.

He became aware of another sound in the room. Heavy breathing... slowly advancing on him. Dougie shook his purple flashlight with every ounce of strength he could muster. At the last possible second, before the breathing could reach him, the flashlight burst on with surprise intensity and ripped off the covers of darkness.

Almost immediately, he regretted it.

Six gigantic predators loomed victoriously over the helpless boy, cornering him in the confines of the bedroom and cutting off any chance of running. Little Dougie saw them all clearly now in the light: twisted renditions of the animatronics from Freddy Fazbear's Pizza; grotesque imitations of the cheerful cast of characters he loved so dearly.

Six demons – Legion; for they were many – stood shoulder to shoulder, imposingly spanning the width of the room like a treacherous mountain range. Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, Balloon Boy and Mangle, led by their ringleader: Freddy Fazbear himself. The devilish incarnations, with the exception of Nightmare Balloon Boy, were hideously deteriorated like rotting corpses, torn and gouged in every conceivable spot with endoskeletons exposed between grimy, matted fur.

Pointy, drill-like claws tipped long fingers poised and eager to rip into soft flesh, while rows upon rows upon rows of blade-like teeth burst from metallic gums and lined excessively wide jaws. But it was their eyes that scared him the most: wide, burning with rage, hatred and the unstoppable desire to obliterate Dougie in a murderous frenzy until nothing was left.

The nightmare animatronics all repeated their warnings from before.

 _"_ _GET OUT..."_

 _"_ _HE'S FOUND YOU..."_

 _"_ _RUN..."_

 _"_ _HIDE..."_

 _"_ _YOU WILL NEVER BE SAFE..."_

"No... no..." sobbed little Dougie quietly when they each approached him like a slow-moving rogue wave, awesome and terrifying, and just as destructive and merciless like the force of nature itself. The hunt was over. Time to move in for the kill.

The others stopped, and Nightmare Freddy stepped forward from the rest to deliver his own message, for he had chosen to remain strangely silent until now.

Dougie remained rooted to the spot in an odd show of bravery that surprised even himself. "F-f-freddy..." he stammered as his brown eyes traveled upwards to meet the ursine's glowing orange ones that glared contemptuously with so much hate into the windows of his soul.

Nightmare Freddy opened his mouth to speak, and he grinned cruelly as words slowly poured forth through his many pointy fangs. _"YOU ARE GOING TO DIE..."_ he condemned in a deep voice that grew more and more satanic with each second.

An icy knife pierced Dougie's heart. He shook like a leaf as Nightmare Freddy softly chuckled at the fear coursing through his tiny body, and the animatronic spread his arms out as if to embrace him, but made no further movements. But something else did... something _within_ him.

Three pairs of tiny pinprick eyes appeared through the holes in Nightmare Freddy's body. The eyes were set in the heads of three smaller versions of the bear behemoth that laughed sadistically at Dougie, chorused by the other nightmare animatronics behind him.

 _"_ _It's those things again!"_ recognized Dougie, as each little bear stuck its little top-hatted head out from the apertures to parrot their master's threat.

 _"_ _YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!"_ the mini-Freddies mocked in high-pitched voices before joining in with the others' laughter.

 _"_ _Nnnnooooo!"_ Dougie yelled back with dismay, hands pressed hard against his ears in a futile attempt to block out the insane laughter and the demented messages which kept playing over and over in his head. _"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Please! Just go away!"_

The crying youth flew backwards from the ghastly, lurid spectacle of his tormentors and straight into the waiting arms of something big, powerful and hungry. Dougie jerked around nervously to be confronted by the final nightmare: Fredbear - towering, twisted and more fearsome than all the others combined.

Bloodthirsty eyes like Burmese rubies, mottled fur in hues of gold and brown, ripped and gashed leathery skin, iron claws and steel fangs laced with red all collaged into a chilling mishmash of macabre miscreation; a veritable Pollock of hell-raising proportions, spiffed up in a bow tie and top hat of the richest purple. Dressed to kill. Literally.

Without warning, Nightmare Fredbear seized the boy with lightning speed, wreaking his savagery suddenly, swiftly, and with incredible ferocity. One huge hand clutched his right arm while the other grabbed hold of his left and squeezed with enough force to snap his bones like twigs.

Dougie's scream shrilled through the night. It was a scream that could crush sanity's hold and snuff out the soul. A scream of someone who, right then and there, wished he had never been born. But it was neither the excruciating pain of his humeri and elbow joints shattering from the mighty vice-like grip nor the dreadful feeling of ten alloyed claws stabbing all the way into his arms that made him scream his lungs out until they burned. It was the awful, deafening, animalistic roar made by Nightmare Fredbear as he drew him effortlessly up to his open, gnashing mouth. The vicious, barbaric sound blasted Dougie's eardrums unrelentingly and catapulted his fear into new heights, heralding his departure from the world of the living.

The last thing Dougie saw before he squeezed his eyes shut was the sight of Nightmare Fredbear's eyes blazing redder and brighter when his head entered the chomping jaws. He felt nothing when the demon bit down. There was only redness... an incoming scarlet tide. His world painted in a rich, beautiful red... that rich, beautiful, bloody red...

The hunger was now satisfied.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I thought it would be cool to incorporate events and references from FNAF 4, and having little Dougie experience what the Crying Child/Timmy Richardson went through night after night during his coma would be a good way to tie it in to the story. Like with all the other references, there is a good reason why Douglas had this dream and it will be revealed eventually.  
**

 **Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed it and feel free to leave any reviews or questions if you want.**


	14. Did You Miss Me, Little Dougie?

**Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I wanted to take a little break to recharge my batteries before I started writing again.**

 **I'm glad to see a lot of people liked the previous chapter where Little Dougie is attacked by the Nightmare Animatronics; don't worry, there's a good explanation for that. ;-)**

 **There's some more fetish fuel in here which you might find funny, and Springtrap also gets even creepier.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Did You Miss Me, Little Dougie?**

* * *

 **August 22 – 6:07 AM – Inside Fazbear's Fright – The Office**

"Doug... Doug? Hey man, wake up!"

A distant, disembodied voice reached forward and pulled back the shroud of slumber draped over the unconscious man on the cold hard ground. It next sent forth two loyal servants, hands, to do an unspoken bidding, to gently nudge his sleeping form.

"AAUUGGHHH!" woke up Douglas Blackburn, catapulting from the horrific nightmare with a huge jolt when he felt himself being touched.

The voice cried out, followed by the sound of something falling to the ground. Douglas scrambled awkwardly across the floor until his back was against the wall, his brown eyes blinked wildly to focus his blurry vision. He fully expected to see the greenish-yellow rabbit animatronic back in the room with him; but instead, he was relieved and surprised to see a familiar face staring back in bewilderment.

"Peter?!" gasped Douglas, still in shock from Nightmare Fredbear's bite.

Peter McNamee, dressed in his typical Fazbear's Fright uniform, eased himself to his feet. His white high tops squeaked on the dull tiles as he lifted his heavy frame up. "Whoa man, no need to be so jumpy!" he chastised, extending a hand to the security guard, "I'm not gonna kill ya."

With a moment's pause, Douglas reached and took Peter's hand and got to his wobbly feet as well, and then ran his hands through his messy hair to make sure his cranium was in one piece.

It was.

"Peter, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Cancun with Jason?" asked Douglas, noticing his tanned skin.

"Yeah bro, Jason and I got back earlier this morning on his dad's jet. Thought I'd come by and say hi." he relayed, scratching his brown crew cut before proudly divulging, "You missed a totally awesome party, Doug! The beach, the babes, the booze, the bush... oh man, it was sweet! You should've been there!"

"Well, I wasn't invited..." reminded Douglas curtly, massaging his aching temples and yawning.

Oh... right. Well, next time." smirked Peter, folding his arms in a self-assured manner. "But it looks like you had a party of your own, bro."

Unnnnn... wha- what do you mean?" mumbled Douglas, glancing wearily around and seeing all the mess of scattered papers and paraphernalia. Suddenly, the events of last night rushed back to him and he seized up in fright at remembering Springtrap's assault and the sight of the mummified skull between his jaws.

But more disturbing were the odd affections the lapine humanoid displayed; touching the side of his face, stroking his hair, calling him "Little Dougie"... One minute Springtrap was hell-bent on gruesomely murdering him, then next minute he was treating him like a beloved pet. What was going on? None of it made sense, but then again, nothing did the moment he started working at Fazbear's Fright.

Douglas stood rooted to the spot, his heart pounded when images of the other nightmare replayed in his head. The pure terror... the horror... the angels of death... that rich, beautiful red...

 _"_ _Why is this happening to me?"_ he asked himself as his hand moved tremulously to his chest as if to restrain his beating heart. But then there were the menacing threats uttered by each of the nightmare animatronics to his six-year-old self and he could still hear them now:

 _"_ _GET OUT..."_

 _"_ _HE'S FOUND YOU..."_

 _"_ _RUN..."_

 _"_ _HIDE..."_

 _"_ _YOU WILL NEVER BE SAFE..."_

 _"_ _YOU ARE GOING TO DIE..."_

Something about these cryptic warnings did not feel right to Douglas, as doubts nagged his mind. The ominous words were meant for him, but did their meanings lie outside his nightmare in the real world? Were Nightmare Freddy and his cohorts trying to warn him about Springtrap? The timing was too convenient. But how? What forces were at work here?

 _"_ _Yo, Doug? Hello? You still with me?"_

Peter's voice broke the silence, dragging Douglas back to reality. He did not realize his mind had wandered off.

"Oh—uh... I'm sorry, Peter. You were saying something?" he mumbled.

"I was saying that it looks like you had a party here on your own." repeated Peter, making a sweeping gesture to the mess in the room. "You invite some crazy strippers in here or something?"

"What? Oh no no... nothing like that." stumbled Douglas, pausing for a moment to search for the right words. "I- uh... had a bad dream. That's all."

"A bad dream?"

"Yeah. I guess I drifted off without realizing it."

"A bad dream did all this?"

"I sleepwalk sometimes. Only when I'm really stressed... and I guess the weed smoke only made it worse."

Peter paused and sniffed the air. "Didn't know there was any more of that stuff still in the air."

"I didn't know either," said Douglas with a shrug, "But it's all over now."

"Yeah, well, anywho, let's get this shit back together. Wayne will flip if he sees this mess." said Peter, changing the subject and scooping up some papers from the floor.

"Have you heard from Wayne?" asked Douglas, also stooping down to help Peter, "Nina and Neil told me they were trying to get in touch with him for a while. He's not answering his phone, apparently."

"Huh... weird." mused Peter before dismissively adding, "Maybe he's sick or something and can't answer the phone. Look, can you help me with this desk quickly? I gotta get back to Jason's in an hour for the party."

"Another party? Didn't you all just come from one?" said a surprised Douglas.

"Yeah bro, it's his 'Welcome Back' pool party. Jason sent me to check on things here and bring a couple kegs." explained Peter, going over to pull the desk from against the vent.

"Right, um... can I hitch a ride with you? I really need to talk to Jason about something." implored Douglas, looking at the window and door nervously to see if Springtrap was lurking outside waiting to strike again.

"Sure dude. You can come if you want." invited Peter, before noticing how on-edge his co-worker seemed. "What are you looking at? You OK, Doug?"

Douglas turned to face Peter with a troubled look in his eyes, "Hey Peter, did you by any chance see Springtrap anywhere in the building?'

"Yeah, he's inside his crate where we left him. Why do you ask?"

'Uh, no reason, really."

"Alright, now come help me move this desk."

"Sure."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, everything was back in place and the office was as it had been before, save for a few skid marks on the floor and some broken wall tiles. Curiously, it only added to the creepy, decaying atmosphere of Fazbear's Fright.

"Well, I think that's that," sighed Douglas, relieved as he rested Toy Freddy's empty animatronic head back in the box by door, "and we didn't even need to sing _"A Spoonful of Sugar"_ to clean this all up quickly."

Peter gave a small chortle at the little joke as he snapped Toy Chica's detached beak back into place, "Yeah, at least Wayne won't have much to do now when he comes back. You ready to go now?" he asked, putting down the head in the box and checking his phone for the time.

Yes. Whenever you are." said Douglas, peeping surreptitiously out the window to check for Springtrap again.

"Come on." Peter beckoned, exiting the door.

'Wait, can I borrow this?" asked Douglas earnestly and pointed to the reassembled folder on the desk, "Neil gave it to me to read and I would like to finish it in my own spare time."

"Sure, whatever." came the response with Douglas following behind a close second later with the archive in hand.

Outside the office, his heart sank a bit when he noticed Peter was not heading to the exit door nearby, but was instead walking up the corridor to go through Fazbear's Fright. The path to Springtrap.

"Hold on, Peter." stopped Douglas, "Isn't the exit this way?" motioning with his head at the red-lit door.

"Yeah, but my car's parked out front. This way's faster." pointed out Peter, keys in hand.

"Are you sure? Why don't we walk around instead and get some fresh air?" suggested Douglas.

"Dude, come on. Nothing's gonna happen. You scared or something?" said Peter.

"I-uh... I..." Douglas's voice quivered, his fear betraying him.

"What? Don't tell me you're afraid of ol' Springtrap back there?" Peter derided tauntingly, just like when he and Jason used to bully freshmen in high school.

"No, it's just—" tried Douglas, but Peter cut in again.

"You think Springyboo's gonna getcha?" mocked Peter, wiggling his fingers spookily at Douglas. "Come on, don't be such a pussy, Doug. I'll show you there's nothing to be scared of."

Sneering, Peter turned and hurried out of sight, his footsteps hammering deeper into Fazbear's Fright, and leaving Douglas alone beside Freddy's recobbled pieces.

"Peter, wait!" called out Douglas, dashing to catch up to his side.

As the two men trekked through the maze of corridors, they passed faded drawings and blinking lights, which, while familiar now, were still unknown to them. To Douglas, what had seemed a harmless, if not disrespectful, cash-in for thrill-seeking amusement was now morphed into a stage set for a tragic play, with him as its main character or its main victim.

"Look, Peter, let's just drop the whole thing." begged Douglas when they walked by Marionne's shiny mask up above, "I'm not afraid of Springtrap, really!"

"If you're not afraid, bro, then you totally won't mind us getting up close and personal with him." insisted Peter.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why? He can't hurt us. He's just a banged up piece of metal."

"Exactly! We might damage him by accident if we mess around with him and Jason would be mad."

"Relax, Doug. I don't know what Fazbear Entertainment made him from, but he's solid as a rock. Trust me."

"But I..."

"And he'll have to be when he sees what I made for him. Heh heh!"

"What do you...?"

"Ah, here we are!"

Peter stopped and pointed to a familiar, rectangular shape. It was Springtrap's crate with the cover still on the ground where it landed and awash with the exit sign's red light.

Douglas felt goose pimples rise all over his flesh, and the tendons of his neck stood out when he spoke, "Peter, I _really_ don't think we should be doing this." he cautioned.

But Peter, as usual, ignored his pleadings as if he did not hear them and ambled over to the crate.

"Look Doug, come see your favourite bunny in the whole world!" he enticed with a grin.

Douglas wiped his sweaty palms on his jacket and shifted the folder to under his left arm. As he inched forward, he clenched his mouth shut to keep it from trembling but his face grew taut, giving his fear away.

"Come on, wimp!" teased Peter, pulling Douglas by his wrist to his side and holding him close with a strong arm wrapped around his shoulder. "Take a good look!"

Springtrap stood perfectly still at attention inside the plywood box, like a sentry stationed to guard Fazbear's Fright, watching... waiting... thinking... always silently, always patiently. He seemed like a harmless but creepy piece of machinery, but Douglas knew there was life and limb within the manmade body of metal and plastic. He felt a chilly foreboding that almost curdled his blood when he sensed the evil seeping through the animatronic's many pores and joints, and the silver eyes that beheld him like a forbidden fruit.

"So," scoffed Peter, rocking smugly on his white heels, "this is what you're afraid of? You think some ol' faggy bunny for kiddies is scary, eh? I mean, Mike, Jeremy and Fritz were all retarded nutjobs, but you... you, Doug... I never thought you'd believe in that crazy shit."

"Can we please just go now." murmured Douglas, shrugging off Peter's hand and then gasping when he saw that Springtrap was looking directly at him.

"HA HA! See? You're a total nervous wreck!" laughed Peter, stepping close to Springtrap and getting right up in his face to taunt him. "My buddy Dougie thinks you're scary. But you know what, faggy bunny? You ain't shit! You don't scare me!"

Douglas's fear crept higher and higher like a thermometer in hot water as the scene unfolded before him. Though the former football guard was oblivious to it, Douglas knew that Springtrap was getting angrier by the second and a subtle change in those glass orbs warned that his patience was wearing thin.

"Peter, let's GO!" demanded Douglas, trying to pull him away.

"Keep your shirt on, Doug!" pushed back Peter, pulling his hoodie sleeve out of the younger man's grip. "We can't leave without giving Springyboo his new name."

"New name?" questioned Douglas, darting his eyes back and forth between Springtrap and Peter.

"It's right here in this special present I drew for him." Peter replied as he withdrew a folded piece of paper from his pocket and opened it up for Douglas to see.

His jaw dropped almost immediately.

It was a crude, coloured drawing of Springtrap looking back and smirking coyly at the viewer while about to ease his added-on pair of large, spread open ass cheeks onto an erect penis. A speech bubble had him saying, _"Hi! My name is Fucktrap, and I like to take big cocks up my ass!"_

Only one phrase perfectly described the artwork.

Rule 34.

"Jesus Christ, Peter!" grimaced a disgusted Douglas, "Why'd you draw that?"

"Meh." shrugged Peter, "I was bored on the plane ride home. Gave me something to do. Jason thought it was a hoot."

"Why am I not surprised?" sighed Douglas.

Peter went up to Springtrap again.

"I think _'Springtrap'_ is too good of a name for you, faggy bunny." he snidely said and then shoved the drawing in his face. " _This_ is your new name... _Fucktrap_! You fuckin' _Fucktrap_! How'd you like that now, _Fucktrap_?"

"Peter..." started Douglas nervously when he saw Springtraps's fingers curl into a fist.

"There's so many new names I could give you... _Asstrap, Bitchtrap, Shitrap, Fagtrap, Sluttrap_... any of those suit you, _Springfuck_? I could do this all day!" Peter laughed as he pinned the perverted picture onto the robot rabbit's chest with a thumbtack.

"Peter, knock it off! You've had your fun, now please let's go!" begged Douglas, even more frightened of Springtrap now.

Peter turned to face him. "Alright, alright. I'm done." he declared folding his arms and smirking condescendingly. "See now? You were a total wuss all for nothing. Fucktrap can't do shit to me!"

Before Douglas could reply, the zombie rabbit's glaring eyes flicked onto life with a pale white glow that turned dark red with fury at the frat boy's brazen mockery. Springtrap silently raised his left hand to grab Peter and kill him savagely right there on the spot, ready to savour the delicious screams and the feeling of warm blood on his hands once again.

The next split-second defied all logic.

"NO!" Douglas yelled, when he saw what was about to happen. He frantically leapt forward, pushed Peter aside, and threw his arms around Springtrap in a tight embrace.

He hugged him.

Every neuron in his brain screamed at him not to, but he hugged the decaying animatronic, desperately throwing himself into the arms of danger to act as a human shield against the impending slaughter. Somehow, in the heat of the moment, Douglas knew it would work.

And it did.

Springtrap, stunned, stopped dead in his tracks before he could strike, and went stiff in Douglas's arms. The security guard gagged and nearly hurled bile from the awful stench emanating from the springlock suit his face and body were pressed up against, and the knowledge that there was a disgusting human carcass inside only made the experience even worse.

 _"_ _I think I'm gonna be sick!"_ retched Douglas in his mind. _"Please, just stay still! Don't do anything else!"_

"Holy shit, bro! You got some _huevos grandes_!" quipped Peter's impressed voice, cooling the heat of the moment.

Douglas craned his neck in his direction and spoke, trying to breathe as little as possible, "Fooled ya, don't I? I'm not afraid of Springtrap at all! I was just messing with you, Peter!" he said with a choked laugh.

Inside, he prayed that his co-worker would fall for the lie for the sake of them both.

"Ha, well, you had me there." admitted Peter, shuffling his sneaker, "Your fear looked so real... besides, how can you stand touching that thing? It stinks!"

"I-I just grin and bear it!" said Douglas with a plastered smile on his face and looking up to see that Springtrap's eyes were no longer aglow and stared straight ahead like before.

They were safe.

"Yuck!" went Peter, picking up the folder Douglas dropped in his mad dash to hug Springtrap.

"You can stop hugging him now, bro. Fucktrap smells like he got his fudge packed up real tight, and you ain't fuckin' up my car with that smell."

"Yeah, you got it." complied Douglas as his colleague turned towards the exit.

He released Springtrap from his hug, and moved to follow Peter, but felt himself pulled back as if his jacket was snagged on something. He turned around and gasped to see Springtrap's face an inch away from his.

In the dark, Springtrap whispered into his ear softly, "Did you miss me, Little Dougie?", and curled his tattered fingers tighter round the sleeve of the security guard's jacket and drew him in closer.

Douglas felt a rush of adrenaline and shrieked in alarm, he yanked his sleeve from the rabbit's grip and bolted like lightning, leaving Springtrap in his dust as he escaped.

* * *

"Jeez, what was that about?" asked Peter in confusion when he saw Douglas jump out and slam the door to Fazbear's Fright. "Why'd you scream like that?!"

"Nothing... I, uh..." stumbled Douglas, turning the key in the lock and walking past Peter to his car. "There was a rat. A big rat... that... that tried to run up my leg. I hate rats!"

"A rat... rrrriiiiiiiiggghhtt!" drawled Peter sarcastically, going to the driver's side.

Douglas took one look back at Fazbear's Fright and shuddered at the thought of the monster within. The devil's smile... the evil eyes... the putrid smell... the hands clotted with blood... the rotten corpse... It was getting too much for him, and he could not explain it, but the explanations he had only raised more questions.

 _"_ _I've gotta tell Jason."_ determined Douglas mentally, as the car drove off towards the open gate, _"But that thing_ knows _me somehow._ _Springtrap knows me! But how? Unless... oh no..."_

* * *

 **6:32 AM – Inside Fazbear's Fright – Hallway 1**

Springtrap stood at the exit door and placed one ragged hand against its metal surface.

"Oh, I've missed you, Little Dougie." his deep, raspy voice uttered, laced with rising excitement. "There isn't a moment where I haven't thought about you."

He turned slowly and shuffled back to his crate, "Do you remember me all those years ago? Have you longed for me as I longed for you?"

Something flapped against his chest. The lagomorph looked down and saw the pornographic drawing still tacked to him, and, instantly, a burning fury erupted from within. His eyes raged with red light and he growled angrily as his heavy metal paws ripped the insulting work of art off his person and savaged and tore it into many pieces. In that moment, he was lost to his wrath which grew from a bonfire to a raging inferno that incinerated his self-control; soon the paper was nothing more than little specks of confetti raining through his fingers onto the ground.

Springtrap stopped his outburst when the vile likeness of him was gone from his sight, but he still remembered Peter's insolence and his audacity to make him an object of ridicule. How dare he! He would make him pay. He swore it!

His red eyes turned to slits, "When I get my hands on you, your new name will be _'Dickless'_ , you piece of shit! I'm going to enjoy making you suffer, Peter!"

Springtrap snickered and then burst out laughing in that same demented, guttural way he did when he killed the old man. But then he stopped, and his eyes turned back to their neutral pale white glow when his mind was soothed at the memory of Douglas's hug.

His warm body against his cold, steely one brought back a wealth of memories of a time when he roamed the earth as flesh and bone. He could now see the dazzling lights, hear the catchy children's songs, pinging arcade machines, and smell the greasy pizza and crispy fries. But in his mind's eye, one thing, one person, stood out amongst it all: Little Dougie.

His special, special Little Dougie.

Springtrap's perpetual smile widened and a cascade of emotions welled up inside like a warm heat wave washing over him. That smooth caramel skin, the enticing brown eyes, those vanilla-scented soft tresses tickling his throat... In his old life, they all stoked a secret passion that tortured him at night and caused him to cry out his name.

"I won't fail this time, Little Dougie." he vowed, "I will have what I want. You were mine since the first day I saw you. Nothing can change that. Nothing can stop me."

Springtrap looked down at the little pieces of paper on the floor and blinked. There was something else on the ground. Perhaps it fell out of the folder Douglas was carrying?

He picked it up out of curiosity - a clipping from a newspaper – and looked at the picture on the back. He saw the long dark hair, the handsomely chiseled face, the deep and piercing eyes, the security guard uniform... he was staring at a window into the past: his old face. His old life.

Springtrap carried the article back to the crate, never taking his eyes from the picture, recalling his humanity and what it was like to truly live and act upon his desires. He sighed with a hoarse, heavy sound as he shut himself off for the day, and a new but familiar memory entered his mind, the memory of a little boy, six-years-old, sweet, and full of cheer and innocence.

He remembered the first time they met twenty years ago at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, one hot summer day in July, before his "accident", before he shed his old name and became Springtrap.

The time he was still Vincent DiCarlo.

* * *

 **Well that just a whole lot more disturbing. O.O**

 **In the next chapter, we will see the first meeting between Vincent and Douglas, and understand why Springtrap is so fixated with him.**

 **I appreciate the faves and follows and reviews I've received so far. I do hope that I could get some reviews where I can get some feedback and maybe answer some questions. I would really love that.**

 **Until next time!**


	15. We'll be Best of Friends

**Hey guys! Happy Halloween! I'm SO sorry I took so long with this chapter, but after the last one I wanted to take a little time off to focus on some other projects before writing the latest installment, and since Halloween was a few days away, I figured I'd just wait to release ion this day.**

 **The other reason I took so long is because I wanted to get this chapter just right in how I conveyed what happens, and what happens does explain Springtrap's fixation with Douglas.**

 ** _WARNING:_ This chapter contains scenes and thoughts of a pedophilic nature. Though nothing explicit happens, I feel it is best to give warning to those who might be disturbed or triggered by such things, and if it does, I strongly recommend you skip this chapter.**

* * *

 **We'll be Best of Friends**

* * *

 **July 20, 1993 – 1:14 PM – Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

"Charlotte honey, don't run like that or you'll trip!"

"Hey, where's my pizza?!"

"When's the show gunna start already? I wanna sing with Freddy!"

"Forget Freddy! Foxy's the greatest!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh!"

 _Another typical day at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza._

 _Festivity reigned supreme in every corner of the restaurant as children, abound with youthful energy, frolicked and feted with friends this way and that, riding high from rations of pizza, ice cream and cake. Kids shouted and laughed with joy, arcade games whistled and pinged away as they racked up high scores, happy music wafted through hidden speakers and boosted the fun ambience, and the air was deliciously scented from a mixture of pepperoni, cotton candies, Cracker Jacks and cinnamon-dipped pretzels._

 _The parents, the ones present at least, watched their little ones with mild amusement or feigned interest, while some chatted together and reflected on their faded childhood memories._

 _In the pantheon of all that was fun and games stood three gods, Titans, lording passively over their flock, shepherding the spirit of youth._

 _In captivating colours of purple, brown and yellow, they dwelt in unapproachable light from above on an altar, like a mountain great and high, to see with sapphire, ruby and amethyst eyes, clear as crystal, the glory and the honour brought into their pearly gates._

 _With a flick of the Titans' wrists, a twist of their hips, a bob of their heads and a lyric from their lips, they commanded the adoration of the juvenile disciples that watched and hung on to every word; a veritable liturgy of fun and fancy-free jollity. The higher beings smiled and sang with approval when the congregation took the precious communion of pepperoni slices and sugary drinks before continuing with their devoted veneration._

 _All was perfect in their world._

 _The Titans' names were simple and easy to remember yet struck chords of reverence in the minor mortals that loved them._

 _Freddy Fazbear, the great brown bear, arrayed in his top hat and bow-tie, brandished a microphone to spread his word far and wide._

 _Chica, the chicken with feathers of sunshine, bore aloft her pink cupcake, sweet as manna, as if to feed five thousand._

 _Bonnie, the royal purple rabbit with eyes like a flame of fire, wielded his lyre, an electric guitar, to captivate and enchant the masses with his Orphic melodies._

 _They were animatronics._

 _Innovative._

 _Inspiring._

 _Magnificent._

 _Unrivalled feats of engineering._

 _Gods in the eyes of children._

 _Now, the Trinity stood frozen onstage with an occasional blink or nod, waiting and watching until it was time to deliver a new sermon._

 _Vincent William DiCarlo was no stranger to the spell that the animatronics of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza seemed to cast over children. They went bananas every time Freddy, Bonnie and Chica erupted into a pre-programmed song and dance routine, told corny knock-knock jokes or came off the stage for a hug or several dozen from a sea of little tykes._

 _He expected it every time. After all, it was his job to make sure that was what they did every single day; maintaining, inspecting, refurbishing and programming them to perfection. It was safe to say that Vincent knew the robot entertainers intimately inside and out, and they, too, knew him intimately as well._

"Ewww... Mom!" _a girl's voice whined out loud,_ "Someone pooped on the floor!"

 _Vincent groaned in frustration and pulled his deep brown ponytail tighter under his peaked purple cap._ "Not again..." _he grumbled under his breath,_ "Do I have to put up a goddamn sign or something?"

 _He adjusted his cap and unhooked a walkie-talkie from his black belt,_ "Barry? Barry? You there?" _he spoke into it fretfully._

"Uh, hello? Hello, hello?" _tumbled out the awkward, sprightly voice of Barry Driscoll, the restaurant's other security guard,_ "What is it, Vincent?"

"Some kid took a dump on the floor again somewhere," _stated Vincent as he looked around to his left and his right for the offending matter only to see nothing,_ "Go find where it is and then get the janitor to clean up the mess."

"Why do I always get the crap job?" _whined Barry from the other end of the walkie-talkie, followed by the sound of him crushing a soda can._

 _"_ _Probably guzzling Cherry Pepsi again..."_ _scowled Vincent before speaking into the device again,_ "Because I say so. How's the search for a new night guard coming along?"

"Uh, we gotta lotta candidates, as a matter of fact. Uh, college kids, mostly, and people looking for a quick buck... huh, isn't that neat, Vincent?"

"Whatever. Just pick anyone, Barry."

"You sure?"

"Our "friends" in here are not very picky, unless you want to take over night shift again, my neckbearded friend?"

"Oh, no no... definitely not! I'll pick someone, Vincent. There's really nothing to worry about."

"Good. Now go take care of what I told you to. I'm going to see how Foxy's holding up for his show."

"Um... Ok, I'll leave you to it. See you on the flip side."

"Oh, and Barry," _added Vincent, his lips curling into a toothy smile which deepened the little cleft in his chin,_ "I'll have what you need at the end of the month. Keep on helping me and I'll keep on helping you."

"Alrighty!" _perked up Barry, excited at his colleague's words,_ "On the double then!"

 _Vincent clipped the walkie-talkie back onto his belt with a self-assured smirk, and then ventured over towards the Pirate's Cove. As he journeyed, he passed swashbucklers with wooden swords and red headscarves that were sailing the seven seas in search of adventure and dueling each other for the precious booty of game tokens and prize tickets._

 _They knew the Captain was soon coming to port._

 _The purple-clad man stopped in front of the Pirate's Cove with the complimentary-coloured curtains that glittered with sparkly stars. He checked his watch and saw there were fifteen more minutes to go before the attraction came alive with songs and tales of travels to exotic lands and fearsome battles. Vincent slowly slipped half his body through the opening, the other half remained outside while his left hand rested on his taser._

 _It was a necessary precaution whenever he dealt with Foxy and the force that controlled him._

 _The first thing Vincent saw was the pirate's curved hook glinting coldly in the shadows, overshadowed by rows of polished enamel and gold-coloured teeth that lined open jaws in search of flesh. Foxy's eye patch was lifted to show off a perfectly good yellow right eye that matched his left in an unblinking gaze at the sea of purple directly in front of his muzzle._

 _Vincent peered up and down at the stationary animatronic, taking note of the worn state of the pirate costume's long red coat and frilly white tunic. The brown slacks, red-feathered black tricorne with a skull and crossbones motif, and black cavalier boots with folded over cuffs had not fared much better, either._

 _Shaking his head, he muttered,_ "You're a bit of a mess-up, aren't you now, Foxy?" _before reaching forward to pull up the boot cuffs to hide the stripped bare endoskeleton legs and fix up the shirt to cover the ragged holes and tears in the vulpine's chest. The entire robot was due any day now for a complete refurbishment._

 _"_ _This will all have to go soon,"_ _Vincent thought as he tidied up the children's entertainer, "It was the same story at the other location. He wears himself out so quickly and I have to keep on fixing him..."_

 ** _GRRRRRRR..._**

 _He shot a glance up at Foxy's face to see that the golden eyes were narrowed angrily at him. The fox's hook lifted higher to strike the man with deadly force._

"Guess someone wants to play now," _whispered Vincent, whipping his taser out in the blink of an eye and pointing it threateningly at the living robot._

"Don't. Even. _Think_. About. It!" _he hissed, sparking the device several times and causing Foxy to back down. It always got him every time._

"Next time you try that again, you little fuck, you're going to be singing with that hook shoved up your ass!" _glowered Vincent, his glacial blue eyes like a blizzard in their ferocity as he made the weapon crackle again,_ "Now be a good boy and don't piss me off! That's how you got here in the first place. Remember?"

 ** _GRRRRRRR..._** _was the response he got from the fox._

"I thought so," _sneered Vincent deridingly before he ducked out of Pirate's Cove with a backhanded chuckle at Foxy._

 _He looked at his watch again. Eight more minutes to go._

 _"_ _I should head backstage,"_ _he decided while thinking about Foxy's deteriorating state,_ _"Maybe there's some leftover red fur I can use to patch him up..."_

"I like to go to the beach in Grenada when mummy and daddy take me. Do you like going to the beach too, Freddy?"

 _Vincent halted in his tracks at the sound of a child's voice. He cast his eyes to the stage and saw a little boy standing in front of it addressing Freddy Fazbear. The boy was talking to the band leader in a clear, reedy voice bountiful with the typical, innocent undertones of prepubescent boyhood; a flower bud. He was dressed simply in a light yellow polo shirt and French blue shorts, with brown sandals strapped to his feet._

 _With curiosity, Vincent took a few steps forward, getting closer to the child whose back was to him, and despite the noise of other children playing and laughing, he heard him speak again._

"I watch you and your friends on your show all the time, Freddy. Can I visit you in Fazbear Hills next time, please?"

 _No response from the seven-foot bear, as expected. The program for the next show had not kicked in yet._

 _Vincent opened his mouth to speak, and for some unknown reason the boy turned around to face him. With astonishment the thirty-nine-year-old noticed that before him was a very handsome, almost pretty, little lad._

 _He was clearly a blend of several different ethnic varieties, refined to produce a fair, light brown complexion that evenly coloured his smooth skin and gave him an exotic look compared to the majority of the other kids in the pizzeria._

 _His countenance - cheery and bright-eyed, with a straight, evenly sloped nose, Cupid's bow lips, inviting brown eyes, was reminiscent of actors from the golden age of Hollywood with their classic good looks and natural charm. The boy's head lifted high to look Vincent in his face and the bright stage lights caught his straight dark brown hair so that the strands gleamed like bronze flames._

 _The youth blinked his almond-shaped eyes and gave a smile that showcased little white teeth,_ "Hello Mister," _he spoke with artless sincerity._

 _In that second, something awoke within Vincent DiCarlo when he saw the boy's eyes meet his own._

 _It was a feeling he had not felt in years, it was familiar in its creeping urges and subtle impulses, an itch that grew to be scratched, a plant needing to be watered, a dream waiting to come true._

 _Yes, Vincent knew he was not like most other adults who found pleasure in big breasts or body hair. The 'norms' were not for him. But unlike those who shamed their desires and fantasies into a sickness to be kept as a burdening secret, he allowed himself to indulge his nature and it felt exhilarating – for he had access to a secret world of beauty and delight that 'norms' did not have. It was a world where the flowers of boyhood, like blossoms in spring, were to be picked and enjoyed, held and cherished._

 _And right now, there was someone ripe for the picking standing in front of him._

 _Blinking to clear his distraction, Vincent flashed a wide, welcoming smile at the boy and said,_ "Well, hello there little man. What's your name?"

"My name is Dougie," _replied the child with a lovely smile,_ "What's yours, Mister?"

"I'm Vincent," _answered the security guard, sweeping his ponytail off his shoulder,_ "I work here with Freddy and his band."

 _Dougie's eyes lit up with excitement,_ "You do?! Can you tell Freddy that I want to play with him in Fazbear Hills, please? He's not talking to me."

 _Vincent cast a quick glance to Freddy's blank face to see no sign of activity._ _"Guess_ he's _not awake yet,"_ _he thought before quickly coming up with an excuse,_ "Well, Freddy is tired right now. He and his friends are resting their voices for when they have to sing later."

"Oh..." _murmured a slightly disappointed Dougie, his hope deflating, but he bought the story._

"So Dougie, where's your mommie and daddy? Are you here by yourself?" _Vincent asked, stooping down so that he was at eye-level with the youngster._

 _Dougie looked at him._ "Yeah, my mummy and daddy are really busy with work this summer, so they took me here for the day until they can pick me up." _he explained in a let-down voice with his eyes gazing down at his feet on the red and blue tiles. But then he added somewhat tartly,_ "My friends were supposed to be here, but they're sick with the flu and can't come."

"Awww... that's too bad."

"My mummy says if I were a big boy, I could stay home by myself and watch cartoons."

"A big boy, eh? How old are you?"

 _Dougie held up six little fingers._ "I'm six-years-old. My birthday was two days ago."

"Well, it looks like you're on your way already," _smiled Vincent, playfully touching Dougie's nose with his index finger._ "You know what? I think that deserves a special treat! How about some ice cream?"

"Really?" _perked up Dougie, his brown eyes lighting up._

"Sure. You can have whatever flavour you want, Dougie."

"Oh boy! I love ice cream!" _he grinned jumping up and down excitedly before turning to speak to Freddy once more,_ "Vincent's gonna get me some ice cream, Freddy! See you later!"

 _Dougie turned and began to walk over to the ice cream and candy treats section of the restaurant with the man following by his side. Vincent glanced back at the stage to see the three animatronics looking at him, their expressions contorted into a furious glare at the sight of history beginning to repeat itself._

 _Vincent only responded with a smug smirk and then laid a hand on Dougie's shoulder, his fingers stealthily retracted until the middle one was all that was left in a surreptitious insult that only they could see._

* * *

 **1:31 PM – Pirate's Cove**

"Thank you very much for the ice cream, Vincent," _chirped Dougie as he happily licked the rich chocolate treat that dribbled down the sugar cone and hummed a tune in his pretty voice._

"Not a problem kiddo," _Vincent winked as they walked to where all the swashbuckling kids were gathered at Pirate's Cove since the show was only seconds away from starting,_ "So, Freddy's your favourite, right?"

"Mm-hm," _nodded Dougie with a few more licks as he and the security guard sat down in two empty chairs,_ "He's so nice and happy and I want to be his friend and play with him."

 _"_ _Hmmm... that could come in handy..."_ _plotted Vincent before speaking,_ "My favourite is Foxy. Do you like Foxy, Dougie?"

"Not really. He's such a big meanie to everyone and is always trying to steal Freddy's songs."

"Ha, well, Foxy's just misunderstood. He's had a rough life... like me."

 _Dougie stopped eating his ice cream and looked at Vincent curiously._

"My mommie and daddy left me behind at the zoo when I was your age. I just wanted to go and see the penguins. When I came back, they were gone, and I never saw them again. I like to think Foxy's lost his mommie and daddy too... that's why he became a pirate," _lied Vincent effortlessly through his teeth, casting his line and pausing to see if he hooked something._

 _He turned to face Dougie and saw that the six-year-old looked as if he was about to cry._

 _The bait was taken._

"I'm sorry..." _Dougie trailed off._

"It's OK, Dougie," _reassured Vincent insincerely,_ "That's why I'm here now, to make sure you kids are never left behind like I was."

"Vincent?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I be your friend? I won't leave you behind. I promise."

 _Inside, the purple man grinned ear to ear when he heard his catch swallow the hook._

"I would like that very much, Dougie. We'll be best of friends," _he said, reeling him in with his answer._

 _"YAARGH, ME MATEYS! IT'S ME FOXY, AND WELCOME TO THE PIRATE'S COVE!"_

 _Both man and boy jumped, with Dougie nearly dropping his cone, when an aggressive, pirate-accented voice blared out over the throngs of ecstatic children. They all cheered wildly when Captain Foxy of the Pirate's Cove, ever the showman, made his entrance, leaping dramatically from behind the curtains._

 _The animatronic's crimson head was held high, his visible golden eye penetratingly bright, and his boots seemed to scarcely touch the floor, unaffected by gravity, as his programming urged him forward with the words_ **GO! GO! GO!** _flashing before his vision._

 _As perky pirate music whistled from the speakers, Foxy kept perfectly in time with the rhythms, doing a little jig before stopping and then giving a bow with his feathered tricorne in hand. The crowd of kiddies roared with wonder and excitement from the dance, desperate to become part of his crew._

 _Vincent smiled happily and clapped along with the children and other adults._ _"Scott Cawthon was really a genius to make these animatronics!"_ _he marveled,_ _"As beat-up as Foxy is, he can still put on a show!"_

 _Foxy propped his hat back on and looked at his audience._

"AHOY KIDDIES! IS IT BE SWASHBUCKLING ADVENTURES THAT YE BE SEEKING, LADS? OR IS IT THAT YER NOT AKIN TO THE SEVEN SEAS? ALL PIRATES GIMME ME AN AAARRRGGGHHHH!"

"AAARRRGGGHHHH!" _growled the children loudly, trying to imitate Foxy's raspy voice._

"YAARGH-HARR-HARR-ARR-HARR-HARR-HARR! AAARRRGGGHHHH!" _laughed the captain in approval._

"Vincent, I can't see the show..." _Dougie suddenly shared,_ "Someone's head is blocking me and I'm too little."

"Hmm...I know. Come sit on my lap," _suggested Vincent helpfully whilst thinking,_ _"Today is really my lucky day."_

 _As he picked up the little boy and sat him on his lap, no one in the restaurant thought to give a second look or suspected anything insidious about what was going on. After all, it was 1993 and not everyone was a suspect. It appeared nothing more than an innocent interaction of an adult helping a child._

"Thank you Vincent," _expressed Dougie gratefully, now clearly able see the performance,_ "You're a really nice man."

"And you're a really nice boy, Dougie," _complimented Vincent, gripping his waist with one hand so he would not slide off his lap. Then, without even thinking about it, he ruffled Dougie's mop of brown hair, causing him to giggle and then reach back to playfully tug at the man's ponytail. Vincent could smell the vanilla shampoo Dougie washed his hair with._

 _It was delightful._

"COME ON ME MATEYS! WE BE PIRATES! WE DO WHAT WE WANT!"

 _The crowd of children cheered, and Dougie looked back at Captain Foxy as coloured lights began to flash and the pizza wheels on the walls started spinning in tune with catchy, energetic music._

 _This was everyone's favourite song:_

 ** _"_** ** _Do what you want, 'cause a pirate is free,_**

 ** _YOU ARE A PIRATE!_**

 ** _Yar har, fiddle di dee,_**

 ** _Being a pirate is alright to be,_**

 ** _Do what you want 'cause a pirate is free,_**

 ** _You are a pirate!"_**

 _Vincent mouthed along with the lyrics to the earworm that the animatronic sang with such rhapsodic intensity that it was easy to forget he was not truly a pirate. But as Foxy's jaws flapped open and shut wildly in song, his mind wandered back to Dougie who was bouncing up and down on his lap with the song. His heart began to beat heavily but rhythmically, growing louder in his ears until the music was no more than a buzzing fly in the background, and at that point, it was just him and Dougie in the room. His face flushed and his mouth dried, and he realized he was aroused, a side-effect of secretive pleasure._

 _The door to his secret world was opening wider and wider._

 _Vincent smiled. Six long years passed since he allowed himself to feel this way, and there was no doubt at all that Dougie was a most appealing child, inciting him to lust by his innocence and provocative playfulness; enticing him._

 _"_ _Yes. You will be my Little Dougie. My special, special Little Dougie..."_ _he ruminated, dreaming of things to come, and turning his head back towards the stage to see Freddy, Bonnie and Chica still staring at them._

 _Freddy's blazing blue eyes suddenly rolled slowly back into his head until there was nothing but endless blackness remaining. Bonnie and Chica followed suit with their red and purple eyes rolling back like a scene from_ ' _The Exorcist'_. _Then, in the sockets emerged pinprick pairs of white lights floating in the inky pools – their true eyes._

 ** _"_** ** _Yarr har fiddle dee dee_**

 ** _Being a pirate is alright to be_**

 ** _Do what you want cause a pirate is free_**

 ** _You are a pirate!_**

 ** _Arr yarr ahoy and avast_**

 ** _Dig a deep and you're digging too fast_**

 ** _Hang the black flag at the end of the mast!_**

 ** _You are a pirate!"_**

 _As_ _The Fazbears'_ _glared daggers at the purple man, unnoticed by everyone distracted by Foxy's singing, Vincent only snorted in contempt and ran his fingers through Dougie's hair defiantly to taunt them._

 _"_ _You all crossed me the last time and you paid the price for it, and so did he!"_ _remembered Vincent angrily, shoving back the memories of seven years ago and focusing on Dougie who was nearly finished his ice cream._

 _"_ _Little Dougie... It's going to be different this time. You'll see,"_ _Vincent vowed as Foxy carried on,_ _"You are not like Timmy or Adam... you won't leave me and I won't leave you._

 _"_ _No one will get in my way this time..._

 _"_ _No one."_

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **Well, there you have it. The reason I had to rate this story M again and what I'd been building up to since the Prologue. On top of being a murderer, Vincent/Springtrap was also a pedophile back in his old life.**

 **I wanted to make the Purple Guy even more of a monster than he is in the established lore of the games and The Silver Eyes, and I didn't want to make him a tragic villain or a Draco in Leather Pants like how I've seen many parts of the fandom do. In my AU, he's a sick, twisted, irredeemable fuck who enjoys doing what he does no matter who he hurts or kills; picture what you'd get if you mixed elements of Freddy Krueger, Ariel Castro, Warren Jeffs, Ottis Toole and the stepfather from the 1996 film 'Bastard Out of Carolina'. That's the kind of person Purple Guy is in my story.**

 **Either way, lots of research went into writing the part of Springtrap/Vincent, and I even spoke with a prosecutor and a psychiatrist that worked at Broadmoor Hospital in the UK for the criminally insane, because I wanted it to be as accurate as possible as to how people like Vincent DiCarlo think and operate in life and how they affect their victims.**

 **Also, with the releases of Sister Location, I will say that it will not feature in this story's timeline, but there may be two or three shoutouts to it later on. Trying to fit its storyline in now would be too contrived and not work well at all.**

 **Credit must also be given to WellHeyProductions for giving me permission to use some of his lines from his FNAF videos. He does what I consider to be the best impression of Foxy period, and that's how I picture the FNAF 1 version of the character sounding. Plus, he alos sang a great rendition of "You Are A Pirate" from Lazy Town. So if you go on his channel, take a listen to it. Thanks WHP!  
**

 **Anyway, as always, any feedback and questions would be most welcome.**

 **Enjoy your Halloween today folks!**


	16. I'll Bury You

**Hi guys! So sorry for the long wait, but my laptop was on the fritz and had to be repaired, so that took some time. I was also busy with some other projects as well as doing some stuff in preparation for Christmas. Anyway, here's the latest chapter and I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

 **I'll Bury You**

* * *

 **August 22 – 7:16 AM – Ryecroft Drive, Harrisburg**

A sudden bump in the road lightly jounced the car with enough strength to pull Douglas Blackburn out of his snooze. He did not realize he drifted off, but his nap was deep enough for him to dream.

 _"_ _No, not a dream..."_ realized Douglas internally as he yawned, _"A memory. I was at Freddy's again... with Vincent. He bought me ice cream... he was so nice to me that day."_

"Cool, your awake, bro. We're nearly there," came Peter McNamee's voice, waking him up some more.

Douglas yawned again loudly. He sat up whilst blinking his heavy brown eyes at the early grey shining of the morning and saw that he was in the passenger seat of a moving car.

Peter's white 2013 Honda Accord glided smoothly down the road while Douglas looked out the window to see six and seven-figure homes zipping past him as if he were flipping through pages in a phone book. The properties all sported white four-door garages that gleamed proudly with perfectly manicured expansive lawns blanketing beautifully landscaped gardens in a conspicuous display of wealth and privilege; mundane to the haves; magical to the have nots.

"How long was I out?" asked Douglas, rubbing his neck which still felt a little sore from Springtrap's grip.

"Mmm – just over half an hour, Doug. I got the kegs for Jason's party while you snoozed," replied Peter, making a left turn.

"Oh right, the party..." he looked outside again, "Is this where Jason lives? It's really nice."

"Not really, man. It's one of his dad's homes in the state. Jason stays here sometimes."

"Just out of curiosity, how long have you known Jason, Peter?"

"Since I was, like, nine or something like that. We went to school together and Jason's dad made it so I could attend UPenn with his son as well. Jason would have it no other way."

"Sounds like he's an amazing friend, Peter," nodded Douglas, folding his arms and looking straight ahead, hoping inside that the conversation would take his mind off Fazbear's Fright, even if it was for a few minutes.

Peter glanced over at him with a fond twinkle in his eyes as he recalled his memories, "Totally, Dougie man. We had a lot in common because nobody really cared about us: Jason's mom walked out on them for another man when he was little and his dad was always really busy at ExxonMobil to pay him any attention. I was a foster kid and my foster parents only cared about that stupid check they got every month; I was like another piece of furniture to them."

"I'm so sorry, Peter..." sympathized Douglas, but Peter shook his head dismissively.

"Don't worry about it. Life happens, shit happens. Same thing. But Jason and I are like bros now, we did everything growing up together," he affirmed, making one more turn.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, I guess," said Douglas, resting his head against the glass window.

"Say man, uh- I'm sorry about back there in Fazbear's Fright, you know?" said Peter suddenly, "I get carried away sometimes. Don't take it too personally, Doug."

"I didn't. It's fine."

"But you do have to admit, my drawing was totally funny. Ha! _'My name is Fucktrap and I like to take big cocks up my ass!'_ Genius!"

"It was... interesting. I'll give you that."

"Thanks bro! I really got the idea from this guy on YouTube that draws porn of the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza animatronics, Gecko-something? I dunno... anyway, he's doing this comic called _'Five Fucks at Freddy's'_ where Mike Schmidt fucks Chica and female versions of Bonnie and Foxy, and they have these huge asses and boobs! It's really fuckin' funny, Doug!"

"Wait... _'Five Fucks at Freddy's'_?!"

"Yup, and there's plenty more Freddy Fazbear porn if you know where to look."

"Boy, Freud would have a field day with you, Peter."

"For real. Say, who is Freud by the way? Does he draw animatronic porn too?"

"Um –uhh... never mind."

Then Doug went silent.

A few minutes later, Peter looked over at him again to see that his face was set and expressionless against the window; his eyes stared aimlessly at the greyed asphalt of Ryecroft Drive, looking but not really seeing. A secret storm. A bridge over troubled waters.

He decided to lighten the mood a little.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts, we've reached our final destination! Thank you for flying Air Peter!" announced Peter in a corny flight attendant voice and flashing a big grin.

Douglas sniggered at the random explosion of cheesiness, "Clown!" he chuckled, reminded of his uncle who was prone to bouts of buffoonery which was quite endearing in its own way.

"HONK! HONK!" went Peter, squeezing his nose as if it were red, round and made of foam. "Seriously bro, we're here now at Jason's place."

 _"_ _Wow..."_ mouthed Douglas as he stared in awe at the stunning Tudor mansion that spread itself sumptuously over a beautiful, well-kept piece of land. As the Honda Accord circled the expansive cobblestone driveway to park near the front, Douglas got a better look at the mansion's solid masonry with its elaborate decorative stone and brickwork which gave it the 'black-and-white effect' typical of its kind.

"Go on right in, Doug. Jason should be finishing up in the gym by now. Gotta look his best for babes he's bringing back from Cancun," Peter said as he put the car in park and turned off the ignition.

"OK, do you need any help with the kegs?" asked Douglas, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the vehicle.

"Nah, I got this bro."

Douglas turned and walked in through the wide front door that was unlocked, and inside he saw immediately that the house featured a great deal of dark wood walls and intricate, inlaid hardwood floors; a trademark of the Tudor style. All the furnishings looked so new and pristine and expensive, a seamless blend of old world luxury and twenty-first century sensibility that was no doubt perfectly suited to the refined tastes of Felix Simpson. The billionaire's spending power was most impressive, from the imported fabrics and upholstered furniture from Europe, museum-quality Greek statuary, carved fireplaces made from red Spanish marble, paneled and plastered ceilings individually designed and fabricated by the best craftsmen and artisans, and paintings by classical and contemporary masters hanging from polished, paneled walls.

Accoutrements of the privileged elite.

Douglas let out a long, impressed whistle as he looked around in wonder; he spotted his dishevelled appearance in a gilded mirror and began to tidy himself up a bit. Even though Jason Simpson was not exactly the Queen of England, Douglas still always believed in looking presentable.

 **'** **IT'S ME!'**

Without warning, white words branded angrily in pitch blackness flashed dazzlingly before Douglas's eyes, catching him completely off-guard. He clutched his head and clenched his teeth when the words were accompanied by a sharp stabbing pain at the back of his skull; it was excruciating and made him stumble forward.

 _"_ _What is this? What's happening to me?!"_ he wanted to cry out, but could only manage a sharp gasp. Grabbing onto the table under the mirror to steady himself, he gritted his teeth harder and squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could trying to bear the pain, hoping it would pass. When he opened his eyes, his face went white as a sheet when he saw that the reflection in the mirror was not his own, but one of Fazbear Entertainment's begotten hellspawn.

Springtrap!

 **'** **IT'S ME!'**

The words flashed again before Douglas's sight, superimposing themselves over the lagomorph's ghastly countenance reflected on the mirror's surface, and lighting up the darkness which shrouded the monstrosity. Springtrap stood staring directly with his gleaming, hungry silver eyes into Douglas's terrified brown ones, his jaws with his wide smile were parted like the Red Sea to reveal the mummified, reddened skull nestled within his mouth; the cleft chin was most prominent and the metal skewers from the springlock suit that forced the human mouth wide open could be seen clearly as well.

 **'** **I AM STILL HERE!'**

More words flashed again, and with it came a new image of Springtrap in the mirror, this one with the decaying animatronic reaching up with withered hands to try to pull the bunny head off its neck. The jaws were open wider and Douglas could see more of the gory details of the skull inside the suit's head, the huge animatronic eyes bulged from the too-small human sockets, hooks and clamps were driven deeply into his cheekbones and most of his teeth were forced out, roots and all, from within the gums.

 _"_ _Oh God, please..."_ Douglas whimpered from pain and the visions.

 **"** **I REMAIN!"**

Yet another phrase exploded before him with an accompanying reflection, this one of Springtrap prying his mouth open even wider to its fullest extent, so that the head inside could be fully seen. It appeared to Douglas to be gasping for breath or trying to scream; maybe the whole body was trying to free itself from its torturous prison, or, perhaps all three? Whatever the interpretation, it made Douglas sick to his stomach, as memories from his shift at Fazbear's Fright and the close encounter of this morning resurfaced; terror in rotten flesh and cold steel.

Suddenly, everything was gone

The whole experience must have lasted no more than a few seconds, but to Douglas it felt like an entire hour standing face to face with his tormentor. All he saw now in the cold glass surface was his pale perspiring face, wide-eyed and slowing his panting to a steady, calm breathing. _"What is happening to me?"_ mouthed Douglas to his reflection, apprehensive that he might receive the visions again.

 _"_ _Yo, duuuude! Totally bitchin' to see you, Dougie man!"_

Douglas released his grip from the table; his fingers were white from gripping it so hard, and turned around to see Jason Simpson coming down the staircase with a big cheesy grin on his face. He was shirtless and sweaty, wearing only a pair of red gym shorts and sneakers, and Douglas could see how tanned his skin was from the Cancun sun which he was obviously proud to show off along with his toned physique.

"Hi Jason, good to see you too. I heard you had a good time in Cancun," replied Douglas, walking over to his boss.

"The best, dude! Like, it was killer, it was sick, it was pumping! It was totally gnarlatious, man! The surf down there was, like, totally epic, and fully macking double overhead corduroys to the horizon! I still swear by Sex Wax by the way - it's the original, and the best! Ohhh and the babes were totally hot man, my bro Peter and I went through all our dude packs in, like, no time, man!" rattled off Jason, stopping to take a swig from his water bottle and then adding, "But what are you doin' here, dude? You comin' to my totally awesome pool party?"

"Well, no, but –"

"How you finding the job? Like, have you seen our psycho bunny, Springtrap?"

"Yes. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. It's really important."

"Sweet! I knew you'd like him, dude. Just go wait in my dad's study while I go shower, I was in the gym just now, gotta look hot for the ladies, dude."

"Right. Where is it exactly?"

"Just go down that hall over there and, like, make two lefts. It's the first door on your right, you can't miss it."

"Got it."

* * *

Nearly twenty minutes passed before Jason Simpson came through the door to the expansive study room, dressed in a plain white Polo shirt and blue swim trunks with tropical flower patterns in a lighter shade. He was barefoot and had his hands in his pockets.

"Sooo Dougie dude, what have you got to say that's, like, so important?" he said slowly with a smirk as he sat at his dad's desk.

Douglas, having rehearsed what he was going to say before Jason came, took a deep breath and recounted his story, "Well, everything was fine on the first night, I had no problems except that I had to reboot the camera system only once and – "

"Hold on a sec dude," interrupted Jason, pulling out a rolled-up joint and a red lighter from his pocket, "Hope you don't mind if I light up."

"Not at all. Go right ahead," nodded Douglas, whilst thinking, _"Do I have a choice?"_

The peroxide blond lit his spliff and took a big drag, his blue eyes fluttered and he smiled in satisfaction as the cannabis filtered into his lungs and worked its magic. "Mmmm..." Jason purred, "Durban Poison. That's some really good shit there, dude. The best. Wanna pull?"

"No, I'm good Jason," declined Douglas with a wave of his hand and trying not to inhale deeply, the last thing he needed was to get high in the middle of his story.

"Suit yourself, dude," came the reply with another drag. Douglas went on.

"Anyway, as I was saying, things went fine the first night. But on the second night, when Springtrap was in there, he... he... he came after me. That thing was alive somehow and trying to kill me!"

"Whaaa..." Jason started.

"I know it sounds impossible, but it's the truth, Jason! I managed to hold Springtrap off for the night with the audio system, but he would not give up! And then this burnt Balloon Boy jumped at me out of nowhere!" babbled Douglas, gesturing with his hands.

Another cloud of smoke issued silently from Jason's mouth as Douglas continued relaying his story.

"I met up with Neil and he managed to convince me I was hallucinating from a joint Peter threw in the vents and I went back to work for my third night. The audio system went crazy and I thought I saw something else in there, but then Springtrap got into the office and he attacked me and nearly killed me!"

"Duuuude... that is some fucked up shit," said Jason lazily.

"That's not the crazy part... Springtrap suddenly stopped and let me go, and then next thing I know, he was stroking my hair and touching my face and he called me his 'Little Dougie', and then he showed me..." trailed off Douglas, freezing up at the mental image of the human skull in the artificial animal's mouth.

"Showed you what, dude?" asked the surfer dude.

Douglas fixed Jason with wide, troubled eyes and spoke, "He pried open his head... and showed me a skull... a real human skull. Jason, there is a dead body inside Springtrap!"

"Da fuck?" emitted Jason, half-stoned.

"Yes! There. Is. A. Dead. Body. Inside. Springtrap!" repeated Douglas word by word. "And this morning, he nearly killed Peter, but I stopped him!"

"Dude. Dougie man, I..." began Jason, but was cut off by Douglas.

"That's not all, Jason. I think I know whose body it is. I think it's Vincent DiCarlo!" he announced, "Vincent is inside Springtrap!"

"And you know this how, dude?" came the question.

"I don't fully know how," answered the security guard, "But I've had two dreams with him. I think they were memories of when I was little at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza... he called me 'Little Dougie' in the first one, and the other one was when we first met...he... he bought me ice cream and we watched Foxy the pirate together."

Silence.

"We have to do something, Jason," implored Douglas. "We –"

"BWAHAHAHA!" his boss suddenly erupted in a bout of near-maniacal laughter from both the cannabis and the tale he just heard.

The purple-shirted man stood and stared with an open mouth at the outburst.

"Dude! That is like, the funniest shit I've ever heard!"

"But... I..."

"But it's brilliant! It's totally fucking awesome! You looked so scared like you're gonna piss your pants or something! This could work for Fazbear's Fright!"

"What?"

"Yeah dude, when customers finish touring the place and seeing Springtrap, you, the night guard, can, like, recount your harrowing encounters with the psycho bunny that wants to kill you. Maybe you can even act out some of the scenes when they pass by the window?"

"But Jason, I was not – "

"Dude! This is totally radical! Like, really macking! I should seriously give you a raise for coming up with this idea! Fazbear's Fright is gonna be the biggest thing in Penn State!"

"NO!"

Jason froze at Douglas's outburst.

"No! No! No! NO!" vociferated the traumatized security guard, "Fazbear's Fright can never open! That wasn't a story! Springtrap is alive and dangerous! All those stories about the animatronics coming to life and attacking the night guards are real! There's something going on in that place, something really bad! You have to shut everything down and call the police – no, a SWAT team, and an army of priests! People will die if this continues! Do you understand that?!"

Jason stared long and hard at the young man before him. He took one last long drag of his spliff and put it out in the crystal ash tray before standing up to his full height – all six feet and three inches – and fixed him with a hard, steely gaze, "I'm not going to do shit, Douglas, and neither will you."

"What?! Jason listen – " started Douglas in bewilderment.

"No, _you_ listen, dude," commanded Jason sharply in a tone Douglas never heard him use before.

The surfer dude got up and walked to the front of the desk so he was right in front of Douglas.

"I've, like, worked too hard and put too much into this project of mine just to have some delusional little freak like you fuck it up!" hissed Jason icily, the temperature in his voice dropping in degrees with each word. "You are not going to mess this up for me, Dougie man."

"Oh yeah, we'll see about that," Douglas challenged, turning to exit the study. "I'm going to the police."

"Really? And tell them what?" smiled Jason condescendingly, folding his arms in a sense of superiority, "That some old, beat-up robot bunny for kids is trying to kill you? That you're, like, some sort of John Connor destined to save mankind from, like, an apocalypse brought about by animatronics from a children's pizzeria?"

Douglas said nothing, in his hysterics he did not stop to think how crazy he would sound to the authorities if he went to them with his story.

"You know what happened to the last three dudes who went public with stories like yours, Dougie dude?" continued Jason, tilting his head to one side.

"Jeremy, Fritz and Mike..." mumbled Douglas barely audibly.

"Yeah, them. They lost everything, and got thrown in the loony bin for a while," Jason nonchalantly replied, "But it doesn't end there, oh no, you see, after he got out everybody thought Jeremy Fitzgerald was somehow behind the first missing kids incident back in '86, but there was, like, not enough evidence to convict and he wasn't charged with anything, but he cut out his own throat with a razor blade a year later. Then there was Fritz Smith... poor bastard, he put a bullet in his head."

"Oh my God..."

"Oh no, dude, he's still kickin' – well, just barely. He's propped up in a wheelchair all day now, saying _'Suicide didn't work'_ over and over or some shit like that."

"And Mike Schmidt?"

"Last I heard he's back in the crazy house after, like, trying to hang himself. Something about a golden Freddy bear that kept appearing to him or some shit like that."

"Wait, a golden Freddy? As in Fredbear?"

"I don't give a flying fuck man, but right now what you said sounded like the ravings of a sick-headed man. If you go public, you will end up just like them: thrown in the psych ward and maybe offing yourself later on, or some shit like that. But, if by some miracle you do, like, manage to get Fazbear's Fright shut down, I will crush you myself."

"You wouldn't – "

"Oh, I will dude. I will," reassured Jason, that smug, shit-eating grin creeping back on his face, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing Douglas, "You, like, have no idea how much power and influence my dad has in this state, a few phone calls and I will totally see to it that you never work a halfway decent job here ever again."

Douglas balled his fists, trying to keep his composure. Jason noticed and snickered. "Yeah, pity, and that's not even getting to the lawsuit I will slap you with."

"Lawsuit?"

"Uh-huh. You see, in your contract there is, like, a little clause that states that if you, like, fail in your commitment to work a full week at Fazbear's Fright or if you totally publicly disclose anything about Fazbear's Fright before it opens, then I can, like, sue you for breach of contract, and believe me, I will take everything you have. You'll wish that you were, like, stuffed in a Freddy suit when I'm through with you."

"So that's it then? I'm your slave for this week?" said Douglas bitterly in disgust as he averted his eyes from Jason and his triumphant smirking.

"Sure seems that way, Dougie man," chuckled Jason as he patted him on the back patronizingly, "But don't worry, I'll still give you your paycheck by the end of this week."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better? Springtrap's still in there," grumbled Douglas.

Jason shrugged. "I'm sure you'll get creative with that noggin of yours," he dismissed, and then messed up Douglas's hair, much to the twenty-six-year-old's great annoyance.

Douglas was about to say something in response, but instead just turned to storm out of the study in silence; angry, defeated, yet scared all at the same time.

Jason had one last thing to say, "Oh and Dougie man?"

He stopped in his tracks and craned his neck to look back at the still grinning pothead.

"Remember, if you go public with this or if you fail to show up to work tonight... I'll bury you."

Douglas nodded quietly in acceptance of his sentence and uttered his confirmation, "I understand."

* * *

Peter was waiting by the front door when Douglas stepped into the foyer, the five beer kegs he took out of the car were by his feet and he no longer wore his black hoodie.

"Hey Doug, you done with Jason? I'm about to head back out to get a few more things for the party, you want another lift?" he offered, wiping his sweaty brow.

"Uh- no thanks Peter. I'd... I'd just rather be alone right now," Douglas said, trying to avoid his co-worker's eyes and just wanting to get far away from the house and Jason.

"Huh? You sure bro?"

"Yeah, I will take the bus back home."

"Um, OK. Just letting you know, Neil and Nina might come by tomorrow morning when you're done your shift to drop off some more stuff. Tell 'em I said hi."

"No problem. Take care Peter."

"Adios amigo!"

Douglas walked briskly out of the palatial dwelling, down the cobblestone driveway and out the wrought iron gates. He stopped and looked at the morning sky and thought cynically, _"Now what am I going to do? Jason has me by the balls and I'm up shit creek without a paddle! So much for being a benevolent boss, the asshole! But Springtrap... Vincent... how did he end up in that suit boarded up in that room for twenty years? Why is he after me and why can't I remember more? Why can't I remember my friends or anything? God dammit! Why is this happening to me?!"_

As Douglas stood ruminating over his predicament, secretly he was not sure he was ready to find out the rest of the story yet. Conflicting emotions played tug of war inside his head and heart, he needed to know the full truth, but at the same time wanted nothing more than to erase it all from his mind completely; he was not sure which would be easier. One thing was for certain though, he was already falling down the proverbial rabbit hole, tumbling too fast to stop and too deep to climb back out, completely unprepared for the impact at the bottom and the strange world that awaited him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I wrote this chapter because for the first three games, to me the night guards never seemed to have a good, clear reason for returning night after night to a place where the animatronics will horribly kill them the first chance they get. So Jason threatening Douglas with complete and utter ruin if he speaks out publicly or fails to fulfill the terms of the contract he signed back in Chapter Five is a good motivator to force him to return to Fazbear's Fright. Yeah, despite appearances,** **Jason Simpson can be quite the asshole when he's ready and especially when his interests are threatened. Picture what you'd get if Chuck Bass and Alison DiLaurentis had a child who was then raised by Steve Stifler and Victoria Grayson; he may be pretty affable and friendly for the most part, but don't stand in the way of what he wants.  
**

 **It also seems that the reach of Fazbear's Fright extends beyond the premises, was it Springtrap sending Doug those visions? Is it the Puppet, Golden Freddy or any of the Phantom animatronics that are responsible? Or has some sort of sixth sense awakened within Douglas? Who knows?**

 **Either way, the next chapters will contain some more flashbacks, including disturbing ones like the previous chapter, so be forewarned.**

 **And I also wish to thank everyone, especially Miss_DNL, EcoSeeker247 and Mr. Fazbear for the nice feedback I've received on the story. It means a lot to me that you enjoy my story that much and I am truly grateful. :-)**

 **And yes, there actually IS comic called 'Five Fucks at Freddy's'. Google it if you dare.**


	17. For You, My Little One

**Happy New Year!**

 **I'm back and kicking off 2017 with another chapter, and what better day to post this than Friday the 13th?**

 **In here, things get a bit more intense and we see Douglas having more of his repressed memories unlocked, and we will see more of Vincent manipulating Little Dougie.**

 **On that note...**

 ** _WARNING:_ This chapter contains scenes and thoughts of a pedophilic nature. Though nothing explicit happens, I feel it is best to give warning to those who might be disturbed or triggered by such things, and if it does, I strongly recommend you skip the section beginning with the date 'July 23, 1993' and pick back up reading from where the date is 'August, 22'.**

* * *

 **For You, My Little One**

* * *

 **A Darkened Room**

 _Freddy Fazbear's head was still._

 _Within the dreamscape's shadowy surroundings, Douglas stood unmoving in the bear's robust, rigid body; he was afraid to see the new changes this time around in the fourth consecutive night, and the questions that would be added to the ever-growing pile._

 ** _"_** ** _HaaHAaaa...!"_**

 _Douglas's body tensed at the eerie laughter. He felt ready to bolt, but Freddy's unresponsive legs remained rooted to the spot, and suddenly he wondered just how fast Freddy was capable of running. "Pretty fast," he figured, answering his own question,_ _"If he was able to terrorize those night guards, he must've been quick on his toes."_

 _So far, nothing seemed to be happening, all was normal - as normal could be - in this recurring dream. His vision flickered with the usual bursts of static and he saw the same tables, chairs and cheery decorations laid out for a lucky kid's birthday party. For the first time, Douglas noticed it was oddly beautiful in a wistful sort of way as he peered through Freddy's large eye holes, past his brown muzzle into the darkened pizzeria, knowing that the preparations were all for naught._

 _He wondered,_ _"I bet the animatronics used to get really sad and lonely at night when there were no kids around to sing for and cheer up... But then again, I don't think they were ever sentient until those five kids were kidnapped and killed. Megan, Keith, Judith, Daniel and Charles... they must've somehow possessed the animatronics and went after the night guards to get revenge on their killer. But why couldn't they tell who was the real one?"_

 ** _"_** ** _HAaahaAahaHAaa... HahaHA...!"_**

 _Another peal of laughter rang out in his ears, this time it was more forceful. Demanding. Insistent. Then there was a sudden, tremendously cold chill which drew the man's attention to his left. "What have I got to lose?" he sighed and turned Freddy's stiff head in that direction._

 ** _WHIRRRRRR!_** _went the gears as he shifted his line of sight to the left. Douglas was surprised to see that Chica was back in her default position, looking away from him, just like she had been before she changed in the two previous dreams._

"Huh? Chica?" _said a confused Douglas,_ "Is Bonnie...?"

 ** _WHIRRRRRR!_**

"He's back to normal too..." _noted Douglas when he saw that the guitar player was also back in his normal stance._ "What's going on here? Did someone hit a reset button or something?"

 _"_ _HE WANTS YOU..."_

 _A whispery voice breathed ice on the back of Douglas's neck. He gasped loudly from the chills racing down his spine with the static clouding his sight multiplying its dancing white specks._

"Wha-? Who said that? Who's there?!" _he called out, half-whispering and half-whimpering, dreading the source of the words._

 _Twin lights like flares emerged glowing white hot across the room where Pirate's Cove was. Douglas was sure it was Foxy. He knew it had to be him enveloped in darkness like that._

"Wait... Foxy was here this entire time? Was he watching me for twenty years in the dark?" _questioned a creeped-out Douglas as he felt a pit of perturbation open up in his stomach at the thought._

 _"_ _HE'S COMING FOR YOU..."_

 _That voice again!_

 _Douglas turned his Freddy head left again, but he did not get very far as a wall of dull gold blocked his front view of the party room._

 _Golden Freddy._

 _The yellow twin of Freddy Fazbear was located right where it was the last night, standing muzzle to muzzle with his brown counterpart, watching with empty black eyes and an open mouth, making the quartet of animatronics into a five-member band._

 _"Are there two Fredbears? This one looks different than the one that did the Bite of 87," Douglas thought, noticing that Foxy's glowing eyes were much closer and the tiniest hint of his red fur could be seen in the night._

 ** _"_** ** _HAhAhaHaahahaaaaaaaahaAAaaaaaAaaaaaaa... !"_**

 _The children's laughter metamorphosed into a berserk discord, warning the end was near._

 _But the end did not come._

 _The laughing maintained its frenzied pitch, but there was no flat electronic sound to hurl him from Morpheus's domain. With each explosion of static, Foxy's eyes drew nearer and nearer, and his hook, snout and teeth came into view until the ruined animatronic was standing adjacent to Golden Freddy with his mandible extended into a wide and terrifying muted scream._

"What the... what's going on here?" _trembled Douglas inside Freddy's body, now wanting to leave badly._ "Just leave me alone, please! I did nothing to you! Why are you all after me?!"

 _Before he could speak another word, something else slid into his sight - a white shape; a face; oval with purple streaks coursing from narrowed, empty black eyes to its open, smiling mouth with lips painted cherry red._

 _It was Marionne the Marionette. The gang was all here now._

"Wait... what are _you_ doing here?" _Douglas asked the twiggy gift-giver, but got no response. What he got instead were two glowing white orbs lighting up in Marionne's hollow eye sockets._

 _Eyes._

 _Marionne the Marionette had eyes._

 _The additions made the stick figure immensely creepier, especially in the darkness, and it unsettled Douglas greatly, so much so that he tried to look away._

 ** _WHIRRRRRR!_** _came the noise from Freddy's neck as Douglas turned to face Chica, but Marionne's smiling mask followed his head while he moved, as if it was levitating itself above the ground defying gravity. Douglas gasped and frantically tried to move the bear singer's head faster, wanting to shake the puppet from his sight, but it hovered casually in front of him, staring dead into his eyes, moving to meet them whether left or right._

 _Without warning, Freddy's head froze in place when he reached the center and it would not budge no matter how hard he tried, his nervous system simply refused to obey. This time he saw that all the animatronics were side by side facing him._

"What do you want from me?!" _blurted out Douglas to the marionette, shaken and beginning to panic._

 _"_ _YOU HAVE TO KNOW..."_

 _It was that voice again, this time it came directly from Marionne._

"Wha- what do I have to know?" s _tammered Douglas, beginning to hyperventilate when similar white orbs of light appeared in all the animatronics' eyes, glowing whiter, brighter and filling up the room with their radiance._

 _Marionne spoke again; his own eyes shining like the burning sun, their intensity beginning to overwhelm the man in the animatronic suit._

 _"_ _YOU HAVE TO SEE EVERYTHING..."_

"What are you going to..." _started Douglas as the lights of the animatronics' eyes intensified and his head started to tingle and throb profusely. An unknown force began pressing against his forehead, harder and harder with each second._ "Ahhh..." he cried, trying to push back mentally against it.

 ** _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- BZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTT!_**

 _The strange sound blared, this time building higher and higher to a thunderous wailing until it became an ear-splitting screech like a thousand fingernails scraping over a blackboard. But the dream did not end and Marionne delivered one last line in his whispery monotone._

 _"_ _YOU HAVE TO SEE EVERYTHING..."_

 _Somehow, Douglas knew deep inside that he had to trust the puppet's cryptic words. With a yell cast out into the pizzeria, Douglas stopped resisting the force and allowed it to enter into his head. The lights of the animatronics' eyes flared up with even more ferocity and engulfed his sight, blinding him with a blanket of pure white._

 _And then, everything was gone. All was quiet, all was still, and nothing existed anymore._

* * *

 **July 23, 1993 – 11:32 - Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

 ** _WHHOOOOPPPP! WHHOOOOPPPP! WHHOOOOPPPP!_**

"Vincent! I won! I won!" _squealed Dougie Blackburn ecstatically, jumping up and down when the arcade game he was playing lit up with bells and whistles at the new high score._

 _Vincent DiCarlo, standing right behind the short six-year-old boy as he played, stooped down to his level to speak to him directly._ "Wow! You sure did kiddo! Who'd have thought you'd beat my record on _Foxy Fighters_!"

 _On spur of the moment, Vincent playfully messed up Dougie's hair, eliciting a cheerful giggle. He smiled back, loving the sound of the child's laughter and the feeling he got when his fingers coursed through that lustrous brown hair._

"Thank you Vincent for giving me all those Faz Tokens to play all my favourite games! This is the happiest day ever!" _beamed Dougie excitedly at Vincent._

"I'm glad you think so. I'm happy you're happy. You're my friend after all, Little Dougie," _replied Vincent, pinching his light brown cheek._

 _Unexpectedly, Dougie threw his arms around Vincent's neck in a hug, momentarily catching him by surprise, but he quickly returned the gesture, enveloping the boy's body with his bigger, stronger arms. Vincent loved it when little boys hugged him; their small bodies with their soft baby-like skin against his adult build was enough to get the blood flowing warmly to his nether regions. Little Dougie was no exception. His smooth skin was sweet like brown sugar against his white body, and that wondrous vanilla scent wafted from his silken hair like a perfume into his nostrils, intermingled with the biscuity and hot little boy smell that enticed Vincent like an aphrodisiac._

 _"_ _You're perfect..."_ _purred the purple man dreamily in his thoughts,_ " _You'll be much easier than Adam and Timmy..."_

 _No one took notice of the man and child embracing. The pizzeria was usually relatively empty at this time of day and to those present, it was just a friendly employee taking time out to play with a lonesome child. Times were more innocent back in 1993._

Vincent pulled back from the seven-second hug, fighting back his budding impulses and the hardening in his loins, _"No. Not yet... not now..."_ _and then spoke to the prepubescent youth again,_ "Guess what? There's someone very special who wants to meet you, Little Dougie."

 _Dougie pulled at his lime green T-shirt,_ "Really? Who is it?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise. Let's go get a prize first and then I'll take you to meet him."

"Oh boy, I love surprises! I can hardly wait!"

* * *

 _A little while later, Vincent and Dougie were walking side by side from the arcade and prize corner, the boy held a huge rainbow-swirl lollipop nearly as wide as his head, very pleased with himself. He had actually been a few tickets short, but Vincent simply plucked it from the stand and handed it to him with a simple nod to the teenage girl behind the counter._

"Thanks so much Vincent! This is so cool!" _chirruped the child, staring wide-eyed at the sugar confection._

 _Vincent chuckled and patted him on his head,_ "Not a problem, my boy."

"I'm sorry that you had to hold me up all the time to play the games," _Dougie then lamented,_ "I wish I could be a big boy so I could do it on my own."

"Hmmmm... well, I believe you're going to become one very soon."

"Nuh-uh. Jamie keeps teasing me that I'm shorter than him."

"Who's Jamie?"

"My friend. He's seven."

"Don't mind him. He's just jealous of you because you're so special."

"I am?"

"Of course. You are very special to me, Little Dougie. Ah, here we are now."

 _They stopped in front of the stage where 'The Fazbears' stood frozen in their poses; the next show would not begin until quarter past twelve._

 _Plenty of time for the purple man to work his plan._

"Here, put this on," _Vincent requested as he pulled a blindfold from his pants pocket to which Dougie complied and covered his eyes with the white strip of cloth. Vincent carefully steered him by the shoulders onto the stage, past the animals and into the backstage room to the show stage's left, the place where he maintained and programmed Freddy and his band mates._

"Where are we, Vincent?" _spoke up Dougie,_ "Where is the surprise person?"

 _Vincent smiled, his eyes glinting like chips of blue ice,_ "He's coming just now, Little Dougie," _he said, giving the boy's shoulders a squeeze and a quick caress,_ "When I say 'now', you remove your blindfold. Got it?"

"Got it."

 _He left Dougie standing in the middle of a relatively small room with many spare animatronic parts and pieces. There were extra Freddy, Bonnie and Chica heads, rolls of red fur to patch up Foxy with, buckets of bolts and glass eyes, bottles of oil and hydraulic fluid, and coils of different-coloured wires. It was an animatronic hospital, so to speak, to get them ready and working for their day-to-day routine._

 _Vincent secreted himself behind a long scarlet curtain in a corner of the room and booted up a small black computer system. Resembling an Amstrad CPC 464, the little computer was the true heart of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, for with it Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy could have programs new and old inputted wirelessly into their intricately designed systems; more of the superb genius handiwork of Scott Cawthon._

"Alright now, you big brown lummox," _muttered Vincent under his breath, sweeping his ponytail off his shoulder,_ "Now you will finally be useful to me..." _As his fingers tapped away quickly at the keyboard, expertly punching in commands and steering his new toy into the backstage, he shot a glance outside the curtain and saw a tall, stocky silhouette entering the room._

 _He grinned._ "For you, my little one. All for you..."

 _Dougie's heart skipped a beat and thumped faster when he sensed the presence of a giant in the room with him, getting closer and closer with its heavy, padded footsteps. Soon it was directly in front of him and the child shivered apprehensively._

"Vincent, can I look now, please? I think the surprise person is here," _he said, still blindfolded._

"OK. You can take it off rrrrriiiiiggghhtt... now!"

 _Dougie hastily removed the blindfold and gasped as loudly as his little lungs would allow. The cup of childish awe and captivated wonderment ran over when he saw who it was standing majestically before him: a towering, exalted, brown-furred pontiff adorned in his vestments of a black top hat, matching bow-tie and microphone._

"FREDDY!" _cried Dougie, overjoyed at his favourite ursine animatronic, jumping up and down with the biggest smile on his face._

 _Freddy Fazbear gave a little laugh, smiled, and spoke in his deep, but gentle and caring voice,_ "Hey, Little Dougie! It's your old pal, Freddy! Come give me a hug!"

 _The bear stooped down slowly and spread his mechanical arms welcomingly for the hug; his endoskeleton operated its gears and ratchets smoothly and silently so that his motions were fluid and seemed almost lifelike. Dougie, without needing to be told twice, practically tackled Freddy and squeezed as tightly as he could around the tree trunk-like torso, it was impossible for his hands to meet in the middle of Freddy's back, but he made a heartfelt attempt._

"I'm so happy to meet you, Freddy!" _said Dougie happily as his hands rubbed over the short, coarse fur,_ "I really love you a lot, and I love watching you sing with your friends and I watch your show every morning!"

"Hee hee hee!" _giggled Freddy, lifting the youth up as if he weighed nothing and sat him down on the work table._ "And I love you a lot too, Little Dougie! My buddy Vincent told me how much you loved me and how badly you wanted to meet me. So how could I say no to one of my biggest fans?"

"Wow... you and Vincent are buddies, too?" _asked Dougie in amazement._

"Of course!" _replied Freddy with a twinkle in his incandescent blue eyes,_ "He's a special friend to me, and you are to him."

' _The Fazbears''_ _lead singer continued again before the child could speak._

"I also want you to know how much I want to be your friend, Little Dougie. Do you want to be my friend too?"

"Oh yes, I really want to be your friend and play with you all day!"

 _Vincent peeked out through a slit in the curtain,_ "He loves that bear so much, he will do whatever it tells him to… whatever I tell him to… heh heh and looks like Keith is deciding to be a good boy today."

 _He pushed aside the memory from seven years ago and turned his focus back onto the computer. With it, he could control the animatronics in their motions and behavior and type in whatever he wanted them to say. The lines he was feeding Freddy now effectively made him his puppet. His grooming tool._

 _Freddy continued in his carefully scripted speech,_ "That's great, Little Dougie! I would love to play with you in Fazbear Hills! We'll have lots of super-duper fun and eat lots of ice cream and cake and sing songs all day!"

"Yyyaaaayyyyy!" _Dougie cheered enthusiastically._

"But," _interrupted Freddy with a pause,_ "there's just one tiny, tiny thing you must promise me first."

"Sure! Anything!" _beamed the little boy eagerly._

"It's really easy… you must promise to do everything Vincent tells you to do from now on."

"Huh?"

"Yup yup! You have to do whatever Vincent wants you to do, no matter how hard it feels. Vincent's a grown-up and you must always listen to grown-ups… just like your parents and teachers."

"Well… OK! I promise, Freddy!"

"HOORAY! That's really swell of you, Little Dougie! This makes me so happy! You are my special, special friend in the whole wide world! Hee hee hee!"

"Freddy?"

"Yes, Little Dougie?"

"Can I try on your hat, please? I always wanted to wear it," _Dougie requested meekly, afraid of being refused._

"Of course, sport! Here you go!" _granted Freddy, giving him a brassy laugh as he lifted the top hat off his head, detaching the small magnets circling the inside of his crown and the hat's sweatband, and carefully setting it on the child's mop of brown hair._

 _Dougie giggled as the too-big hat slid down over his eyes._ "Thank you, Freddy! I love you very much!" _he said, hugging the animatronic affectionately again._

"And I love you too, Little Dougie," _responded the bear in kind with an embrace of his own._

 _In his secret corner, Vincent smiled craftily and suppressed a snicker at the success of his plan,_ _"Jackpot!"_ _he thought as he watched the boy and machine hug,_ " _You're all mine now, Little Dougie."_

 _The man at that moment noticed Freddy turning his head up to stare straight at him in his hiding place, the bear's blue eyes glittered disturbingly in the darkness like a rattlesnake's and they tightened and darkened into a glare filled with anger and hate for the man who turned him into an unwilling accomplice._

 _Though Freddy could not speak at this time, the message was written clearly in his expression._

 ** _"_ _HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME SAY THAT?!"_**

 _Vincent watched him for a moment with a malicious look on his face before mouthing,_ _"Thank you," to which Freddy's eyes rolled back in his sockets and the dark pools with white spots of light took their place; a clear threat to the man who snuffed out his old life years before._

 _"_ _And fuck you, too, Keith!"_ _Vincent mocked quietly, raising his right hand to give the spirit within the finger._

 _He ignored the livid animatronic and focused on Dougie, still wrapped in Freddy's arms, imagining it was him who was cuddling the six-year-old. Vincent's eyes flickered, glazing over with sinful desire as he eyed the little brown boy, undressing him with his lustful gaze. He felt the front of his pants tighten again and his heart beat quickly in his chest from the titillating fantasies seeping into his mind._

"Soon..." _he whispered, thinking up his next step,_ "Soon..."

* * *

 **August 22 – 10:00 PM – River Plaza, Apartment #I3**

The chiming of his mother's torsion clock in the living room softly lifted Douglas from his sleep, reminding him of when his mum used to come in and wake him up for school as a child. His eyes flickered, opened, and then contorted shut. He rubbed his eyes, opened them again and looked around at his darkened bedroom.

"Another memory..." he grunted. His mouth felt dry, and he opened and closed it two or three times to try to moisten his tongue. "Vincent took me to meet Freddy... that was such a fun day. I was so happy..."

He sat up on the side of the bed, hanging his head low to drain the sleep out of it, reached to his bedside table for the glass of water and downed the entire thing. "But that dream again..." he recalled, "They were all there this time. Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, Golden Freddy and Marionne... they showed me that memory with Vincent... they wanted me to see it, but why? Did I have something to do with Vincent ending up in that springlock suit? But how? I was only six-years-old and those suits were decommissioned years ago."

Douglas felt a small sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach; and it was not because of the water. There had to be more to this mystery. All he could remember now from those dream-memories was Vincent being nothing more than a very kind and generous man to him. He recalled his happy thoughts that day in 1993 and feeling like the most special person in the world by meeting Freddy Fazbear up close and personal, but with everything else he drew a blank.

He got out of bed and tugged up the Venetian blinds and greeted the lit up windows of Capitol Heights against the backdrop of the black sky. He sometimes liked to just stand and stare out the window at the sights of the place he called home, utterly detached but a part of it all in his own way. But his thoughts soon drifted back to Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction and the devil that lurked in its shadowy halls ready to pounce and devour him the first chance it got.

"Springtrap's gonna come after me again," dreaded Douglas, remembering the bloodstained hands and picturing his own blood freshly drenching them with a fresh coat of red. "But somehow, I don't think he wants to kill me again... whatever he wants me for, it's not good. I have to find a way to stop him from getting to me; maybe I can use the audio system and the vent doors like last time? I just have to be more vigilant now."

After a moment's reflection, he left the bedroom and sauntered over to the kitchen to heat up two cans of beef ravioli on the stove for his dinner. He pondered ways to get Fazbear's Fright shut down despite Jason's threats as he prepared his meal. _"No matter what that dickhead says, I'm not going to let people die because of Springtrap!"_ he determined, _"But I need proof before I can go to the authorities... but how?"_

Douglas then remembered he had a small digital camera tucked away somewhere in the apartment. "That's it! If I take some photos and videos, maybe I can use them as evidence! I think that will work!" he said to himself, stirring the pot. "Now where did I put that camera?

* * *

 **10:25 PM**

With his digital camera charging and his bowl of beef ravioli steaming on the table in front of him, Douglas sat down at the small two-seater table he got from Wal-Mart at a clearance sale. He rested some of the newspaper clippings from the folder he brought home from work to read and rifled through them.

"Now let's see here..." he muttered softly, scanning the articles which were about the re-opening of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza in 1990 following the closure of the previous restaurant with the Toy animatronics due to the Bite of 87 and the death of Timmy Richardson. Along the way, he saw several pieces devoted to the allegations of Jeremy Fitzgerald and Fritz Smith about the animatronics attacking them.

Both the Toys and the broken down, withered ones from the 1986 location where the five children were murdered, apparently rose up at night, stalking the halls and prowling the rooms to try and get at them. Even Mangle, Toy Foxy's remains, was described as crawling across ceilings and climbing up walls like a spider.

"Poor guys," mused Douglas, glancing at their pictures which showed the men wide-eyed and clearly traumatized from their ordeal, "No wonder people thought they were crazy or on drugs. Now I know what they went through on the night shifts."

Setting aside their articles, he continued sorting, "I wonder if there's anything about why Freddy Fazbear's Pizza closed down in 1993? It must've been shortly after me and my parents moved to New York..."

He pulled off one article which was an ad for a night guard, and what he saw underneath it made him freeze in shock.

 **GONE! FIVE MORE CHILDREN MISSING AND PRESUMED DEAD AT POPULAR RESTAURANT!**

There was a large black and white photograph of the exterior of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, and directly beneath that were five smaller ones, obviously school photos, lined up side by side. Douglas's mouth slowly dropped open and his breaths became quick and shallow as he recognized them as the same children from his first dream-memory that waved at him in the distance next to the stage while _'The Fazbears'_ performed _'Purple People Eater'_.

He saw their names listed beneath each picture: Amber Likens, James Morcombe, Yonatan Kletzky, Nicholas Thorne and Jeffrey Carter.

"Amber…Jamie… Yoni… Nicky… Jeff…" Douglas faintly murmured as the sluice gate to his head opened and the flood of a forgotten life swept in, filling the wells left empty for twenty years, and settling back where they belonged.

"Oh my God…" said Douglas, clutching his head and nearly collapsing off the chair from the overload of pictures.

Snowball fights in January… a fun day at Jamie's pool… a barbeque at Amber's for the Fourth of July… playing hide and seek with Jeff's older cousins… lining up for class photos… watching _Fredbear & Friends_ together in Nicky's living room… Yoni showing them how to play with a dreidel during Hanukkah... his sixth birthday party in his backyard… It was like going through an album at high speed, the pictures tucked within holding a memory frozen in time, ready to be thawed when gazed upon.

Douglas shook his head and blinked rapidly to keep the pictures from coming again, the ice age of childhood memories halted its rapid defrost and held onto its frozen secrets once more. "My friends... my friends..." wept Douglas softly as tears ran down his cheeks when he read about the bloodbath police were greeted with, "Why? Why? Who would do this to you? What in God's name happened in that place?"

A flash of lightning suddenly slashed its way across the room and cut through the shadows with a dazzling display of white. For a split second, Douglas swore that he saw one shadow remain in the corner unaffected by nature's showmanship.

It stood at the other end a tall, heavy blackness spanning from floor to ceiling, silhouetted in the shape of Toy Bonnie from the 1987 incarnation of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. But most strange were the eyes and teeth; they were white as the lightning and were set in the black face as if stuck there and not meant to be a part of the shadowy mass.

The instant the lightning had gone, it took the mysterious shape with it and everything was as it had been.

"Not again!" said Douglas with a shudder, turning back to his meal. No more time for tears now as he would have to get ready soon. "This is too much! Now I'm beginning to see things in my own home!"

As he tucked into his ravioli, the feeling Douglas had kept down was beginning to surface once again. But he could not stop it this time, it was the worst feeling he had ever known in his life and it was getting worse. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"Please, let me get through this night! Please..."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **For storytelling purposes, I changed the events of the last dream sequence of FNAF 2 to include Golden Freddy again as well as Foxy, so that the gang was all there. It's important that they were all present.**

 **The part with glowing lights in their eyes was inspired by the movie, _'Village of the Damned'_ , both the original 1960 film and the 1995 remake. I thought it would be a creepy homage to the scenes of a group of kids staring at you with glowing eyes that could reach into your mind.**

 **And yeah, Vincent is very much an evil and manipulative bastard. I was thinking that him using something Dougie loved so much (in this case, Freddy) as his tool to getting what he wants was a very underhanded but ingenious thing for him to do. And he also did it knowing how much it would disgust the child spirit (Keith) inside that he helped his killer get one step closer to his perverted goals.**

 **Douglas's five friends which he remembers from the newspaper article are named after real life murdered children, just like with the other kids. See if you can figure them out.**

 **And it looks like Douglas has witnessed his very first sighting of Shadow Bonnie. Why is he seeing it now? What does it want with him? Who is it really?**

 **Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. More to come!**


	18. Listen to my Voice

**Hi everyone, here's the next chapter. It's long but worth it since a lot happens.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Listen to My Voice, and You Will Find the Key...**

* * *

 **11:51 PM – Inside Fazbear's Fright – Hallway 1**

Springtrap had company.

It was not his Little Dougie returning to work. This company was something small, furry and hungry.

He heard its tiny claws scampering across the dull tiles, heard it stop and sniff the air cautiously for any warning of danger, and then heard it squeak once, then twice. It wanted food and water, and was coming his way.

The possessed animatronic blinked his glowing eyes at the unexpected guest waddling up to his crate.

A rat.

Black-furred, male, with a long, wormy tail and naked ears, the rat skittered towards the smell of rotting flesh; a feast for tonight and many more to come.

Unafraid, Springtrap bent down and offered his large paw to the rodent. "Come here, little fella. You're hungry aren't you? I'm not going to hurt you."

The rat's long whiskers twitched impatiently in the red-lit darkness as it saw and smelt the decayed, scraggly bits of torn meat within the holes and tears of the rabbit's hand. The tasty smell and opportunity for a huge meal was too much to refuse. Without hesitating, the rat scuttled up onto the outstretched palm, relishing the generous offering.

Springtrap eased back up to his full height and looked at his little guest poking its head into his palm quickly and curiously in search of whatever juicy chunks remained of his old human body. The rat chewed, driven by hunger, trying to get at the fetid flesh below. He did not care, it was of no use to him anymore anyway, especially after his 'accident', and particularly after more of the rat's brethren came and devoured what was left of his festering carcass.

They came by the dozens, squeezing out of tiny holes, slipping through unseen cracks, drawn in by the spilt blood and hunks of meat strewn on the ground from his carved-up corpse. He felt them all, going in and out of him, ravenous and merciless in their appetites, tearing skin, gristle, muscle, fat… anything they could get their flailing paws and sharp teeth on… anything they could take away. The rats reduced his body, his last vestige of humanity, into nothing more than pathetic scraps to be digested, passed out and forgotten in the shadows.

There was no pain, of course, but he would never forget the sensation of hundreds of nibbling teeth and bristling whiskers forcing their way into his chest, his stomach, his neck, his groin. All without reprieve until everything they could get was gone.

No. Springtrap would never forget. Ever.

A bitterness crept into his face, _"Those little brats! They did this to me! They thought they could end me! But I came back… I will always come back!"_

His sick-looking smile widened in the red light, "Oh, my sweet child… I came back for you," he rasped lightly as he tenderly stroked the feasting rat's back, "I couldn't leave without you, my Little Dougie… you needed me… and I needed you. I still need you."

Springtrap smiled as he drifted back to 1993. "Mine. All mine," he said, with menacing softness. "They tried to come between us… take you away from me… but I made them suffer for it!"

The rat squeaked and nibbled on a mummified piece of tissue in its paws.

Springtrap chuckled at it in mild amusement. "It won't be long now," he said in anticipation of his target's arrival.

Then, as if an invisible director yelled out _'Action!'_ Springtrap heard the metal door at the other end of the building in Hallway 8 unlock and creak open very slowly, followed by careful tiptoeing into the office.

Target acquired.

The undead lagomorph stepped out of the crate and whispered, "Dougie… oh Little Dougie… I knew you would come back to me!"

Springtrap stood silent and tall and dark in full view of the hallway's cameras ready to begin the game once again. He heard the phone ringing, chuckled, and then moved his mouth up and down, firing up Spring Bonnie's ancient voice box, manipulating it with his life force so that he could speak as Fredbear's bunny buddy once did.

 _"_ _Hiya, Little Dougie!"_ he sang in that syrupy-sweet Good Guy doll voice, _"Welcome back!"_

He felt the rat's wiry hair brush against his hand.

Springtrap paused and eyed the vermin for a few seconds, then grabbed it with his other hand and squeezed. The rat squealed in pain and squirmed as hard as it could, but it was no match for the animatronic. With a low sadistic giggle, Springtrap gripped its other end and tore the rat in two as if it were a Christmas cracker, the wet sounds of ripping flesh and bone satisfying to his ears.

"No more late night snacks for you," he sneered as blood pitter-pattered onto his metal feet, and then tossed the two halves of the rat back into his crate.

He spoke again in the saccharine voice, becoming all sweet and nice-sounding again, " _Won't you come out and play with your ol' pal, Springtrap? Let's have fun!"_

And then he started his stroll towards the office.

 _"_ _It's time to play! Ha ha ha!"_

* * *

 **11:57 PM – Hallway 8**

The back door to Fazbear's Fright inched open carefully so as not to make the hinges groan from rust and age, and slowly, the silver barrel of a Midwest aluminium baseball bat peeked into the building.

Douglas poked his head inside, looked left, then right, and, satisfied that Springtrap was not there, gingerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him. He tried to make as little noise as possible despite knowing that his grinning nemesis possessed very sharp hearing and most definitely knew of his arrival, but he still erred on the side of caution.

"Well, here I am... I hope to God I can get through this," he sighed, and then looked down at the bat in his right hand, a Christmas gift from a friend some years ago; too bad he did not play baseball. "Who'd have thought this thing in the back of my closet would come in handy? At least it'll be better than Toy Bonnie's old guitar."

Inside, he knew he might as well be wielding a toothpick against the fearsome, powerful beast that was Springtrap, but it did bring him a sense of comfort and confidence; he would need both to survive this night.

 ** _RIIIIINNNNG! RIIIINNNNG!_**

"Right on schedule," commented Douglas, striding over to the desk and pressing the speaker button on the phone. He pursed his lips, hoping it was another Barry Driscoll training tape; the last person he wished to hear right now was Jason Simpson.

 _"_ _Hiya, Little Dougie! Welcome back!"_

Douglas jumped at the sound of the cheery child's voice and gripped the bat firmly, raising it as if ready to strike. "Looks like Springtrap knows I'm here!" he gulped, "And why does he keep using that creepy Chucky doll voice?!"

" _Won't you come out and play with your ol' pal, Springtrap? Hee hee hee!"_ chirped the voice again in the distance, _"Let's have some fun!"_

Barry Driscoll's training tape started to play.

 _"_ _Uh, hello? Hello, hello! Uh, there's been a slight change of company policy concerning use of the suits. Um, don't,"_ shared Barry awkwardly, as if uncomfortable in his own skin.

"What was up with this guy?" observed Douglas, shaking his head and sitting down in his chair, yet still alert.

 _"_ _It's time to play! Ha ha ha!"_

"Why do I feel like I'm a _Child's Play_ movie? What am I, Andy Barclay or something?" grumbled Douglas, pressing the camera monitor's button and making the screen swing forth to bring him a static-covered view of the attraction's corridors, "Still the same shitty-ass quality as always."

Barry's message continued, _"_ _After learning of an unfortunate incident at the sister location, involving multiple and simultaneous spring lock failures, the company has deemed the suits temporarily unfit for employees."_

"Sister location? Hmmm... that must've been the second Fredbear's Family Dinner, where Miguel Peña and Tony Weatherhead got skewered by those suits... what a horrible way to die..." remarked Douglas as if replying to Barry himself while scanning the different cameras trying to pinpoint Springtrap's whereabouts.

 _"_ _Safety is our top priority at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, which is why the classic suits are being retired to an appropriate location, while being looked at by our technician."_

"Yeah right! Safety is your top priority, my ass! Is that why accident after accident kept happening at your restaurants? Come on... come on... where the hell are you...?"

 _"_ _Until replacements arrive, you'll be expected to wear the temporary costumes provided to you. Keep in mind that they were found on very short notice, so questions about appropriateness/relevance should be deflected."_

"Maybe those temporary costumes were cheap copies of Fredbear and Spring Bonnie? Or maybe the new crew? I think Jason said something about 'crappy cosplays'?"

 _"_ _I repeat, the classic suits are not to be touched, activated or worn. That being said, we are free of liability, do as you wish. As always, remember to smile; you are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."_

"Well, too little too late... I wonder whatever became of you, Barry Driscoll?"

Douglas spotted Springtrap's endoskeleton legs on CAM 03 in Hallway 6 standing on a few scattered papers, "Oh no, he's getting close! Better send him back further."

 ** _BZZZZZTTT!_**

Static clouded the monitor and when it cleared, there was no sign of the rabid-looking rabbit.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Douglas agonized as he searched again, "Can he read my mind or something?"

 ** _CLANK-CLANK-CLONK!_**

"The vents!" he cried, toggling the map and scrambling through the feeds to find Springtrap.

 _"_ _Ha ha ha! Olly-olly-oxen-free, Little Dougie! I'm gonna getcha!"_ echoed Spring Bonnie's taunting, repurposed voice excitedly inside the vents.

"Oh no you don't!" announced Douglas upon sighting the rabbit on CAM 15.

Springtrap was crawling on his stomach like he was on the second night, but the camera was positioned directly behind the animatronic and showed the back of his greenish-yellow head and an arm and shoulder. Douglas made out the reddish wiring and dried out flesh from Vincent's body through the holes in the suit, and the mouth was open, revealing a peek of Vincent's skull. Douglas could also see the left silver eye peeking back at the camera.

"You're not getting in here! Not tonight, not ever!" avowed the twenty-six-year-old, pressing the CAM 15 button and holding his breath in suspense as the vent sealed itself, realizing that tunnel connected directly to the office and that Springtrap was mere feet away from making a beeline towards him.

The red line appeared on the screen and the vent was closed.

Douglas exhaled. "I have to be more on the ball. Springtrap seems to be faster tonight. Oh wait, the camera!"

He hurriedly took out his small Sony digital camera, turned it on and snapped a picture of his fuzzy monitor. "Got one!" he smiled just as the static reclaimed the screen.

 _"_ _Gosh-arooney, Little Dougie!"_ pouted the childish voice yet again as the pounding sounds resumed, _"That's no fair! You're supposed to let me come in and play!"_

Douglas's hands trembled as he checked the cameras. "I _will_ make it! I _will_ make it! I _will_ make it!" he affirmed to himself, spotting Springtrap staring at CAM 05 in Hallway 4, where the blue-lit arcade game could be seen in the distance.

Springtrap grinned in the eerie glow, malevolently self-satisfied, with eyes gleaming with silvery-white light in an expression of evil enjoyment, as if knowing that he would soon be getting what he wanted.

The beleaguered guard stared back into Springtrap's wide eyes and began to feel the same feelings of fright and despair brought onto him from the past two nights.

 ** _BOOOOMMMMMM!_**

Sudden thunder bellowed bestially right over his head, and he nearly jumped out of his seat. It growled so loudly that Douglas felt as if the roof was literally going to collapse on top of him.

A thunderstorm was brewing.

"Get a hold of yourself!" chastised Douglas to himself, "It's just thunder! I need to focus!"

 _"_ _Listen to my voice, and you will find the key..."_

A cold shudder raced down his backbone, and he froze.

That was no thunder.

A voice, cold, raspy, almost hissing, and yet foreboding somehow, croaked a mysterious prophetic verse through the still air. Douglas looked around, alarmed, and saw no one even though the voice appeared to come from close by.

"Who said that?!" called out Douglas, gripping the sides of the camera monitor.

No response.

It did not sound like Springtrap's regular voice at all, and the demented robot was still looking at him through CAM 05, unmoving, plotting his next move behind that broadening maniacal grin.

Outside, the wind sounded determined and threatening, its rain-filled blasts pounded the roof and walls of the building like an undeterred conqueror hell-bent on crushing the castle walls. "Great! And I didn't bring my umbrella!" muttered Douglas, shrugging off the strange voice and snapping another picture of Springtrap on the monitor before toggling over to CAM 10, which was right next to the other exit of Fazbear's Fright, and pressing **'Play Audio'**.

 _"_ _Ah-ha-ha-ha!"_ went Balloon Boy's hitch-pitched laughter in Hallway 1. A moment later, more static and he could see Springtrap in the corner adjacent to the Freddy Fazbear drawing, looking a bit irritated.

"There… that should buy me a little more time," sighed Douglas, leaning back in his chair.

 _"_ _When you can see, how fast can you flee?"_

That voice again!

"Shut up!" shouted Douglas back, still not knowing its source, but getting frustrated now that he was hearing things.

Silence.

Only the gentle white noises of the camera monitor and the desk fan's spinning blades remained.

"Thank you!" muttered an exasperated Douglas, "Now I can get back to – what the…?"

He noticed a big, heavy, black figure silhouetted in the hallway through the enormous plate-glass window, shuffling forlornly down the drab corridor. It was not Springtrap; that much was for certain. He saw the large, rounded head with the puffy muzzle, saw the microphone held in its hand, saw the unmistakable shape of a top hat perched on its head, and called out its name.

"Freddy?" he said in a hushed tone, glancing over to see the bear's animatronic shells still propped outside his door. The ghostly shape of ' _The Fazbears''_ lead singer hobbled slowly yet steadily. It was a shadow of its former self - a phantom - weather-beaten and dilapidated, and it seemed to be hunched and limping as if missing part of a leg or perhaps sauntering away in defeat; a washed-up former star.

 _Slide... thump... slide... thump..._ went Phantom Freddy's footsteps, scraping the grimy tiles as he continued his stunted stroll.

Douglas, feeling a pang of sorrow, left his seat and the camera monitor and stepped towards the shadowy remnant of his old friend. A luminous rectangle of dull yellow light from a hanging fixture projected through the glass inset, framing his pale face.

"Freddy...?" he began, trying to get the phantom's attention.

Then, suddenly, it disappeared quick as lightning, ducking beneath the window out of sight, as if afraid and trying to hide from Douglas.

"Hey, where did you..."

 ** _"_** ** _PSSCCCCHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!"_**

Phantom Freddy sprang forth literally out of nowhere, making that terrible, frightening hiss that could only be born from the depths of unbearable pain and utter desperation. The ghost animatronic was a horribly burnt sight with hanging wires, a missing ear and the same white, pinpricked pupils in his eyes just like Phantom Balloon Boy. He leapt right at Douglas, pulling a blanket of blinding white light, with his mouth ripped open in a horrifying scream, coming so close that they were face to face for two seconds.

"AAAAAHHHHH!" yelled Douglas, as his arms flew up to shield himself. When he lowered them, the strange spirit was no longer there.

"Holy shit!" he cursed, his heart palpitating. "What the hell was that all about?!"

Douglas turned on the spot searching for any more surprises, "What is going on—whoa!"

Another visitor.

He was missing his right forearm and hook. He had no eyes but a single white pupil in his left socket. He had no torso. No leg coverings. His red fur was caked over head to toe with black soot. A double set of pointy canines bared themselves warningly at Douglas.

Captain Foxy had escaped Davy Jones's locker.

"Uh-oh…" trembled Douglas, taking one careful step away from the Lord of Pirate's Cove.

 _"_ _Be sure your step, through the heart of madness…"_

The sentence came directly from Phantom Foxy's open jaws as he stood limply in front of the box with the Toy animatronic parts.

 _"_ _What is that supposed to mean?!"_ Douglas thought, never taking his eyes off the charred fox.

 ** _"_** ** _PSSCCCCHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!"_**

Phantom Foxy gave his answer.

He pounced the twenty-six-year-old, seemingly intending to viciously bite and tear his head straight off in his mouth, but vanishing right when he was about to impact. Douglas screamed again and stumbled back, nearly crashing to the floor in a heap. He grappled onto the still open monitor and was surprised when it promptly came off its stand.

"Jesus!" he cried out, gripping it before it could crash to the floor and break, "Are these things trying to give me a frigging heart attack?! This is bullshit! Springtrap is the one they should go after, not me!"

Douglas caught his breath and looked at the monitor and saw it was still operating perfectly fine; it was now like a tablet in his hands. "Well, what do you know? It can come off," he remarked, sitting back down and attaching the monitor back onto the stand via a tab and slot mechanism.

"At least Jason's not gonna bill me for that," he added before looking over at the vent and then at the doorframe, "I just wished he could've put in a big steel door and a grating for the vent… no use asking now anyway…"

The red ceiling light started flashing and the alarm accompanying it beeped loudly. The vent system was offline.

Douglas quickly pressed the corresponding reboot button on the maintenance panel, "Did that Phantom Foxy-thing disable the vents? It can't be a coincidence. The same thing happened when I saw that Balloon Boy two nights ago!"

The system now running smoothly again, he checked the cameras to locate Springtrap and saw his arm beside one of the arcade games on CAM 06 in Hallway 3. It seemed that he was trying to hide from the cameras, though the static on the screen did more than half the work in that regard.

"OK. I gotta ignore these phantom things and keep my attention on Springtrap. He's the real danger," determined Douglas, keeping his concentration on watching the rabbit that was on the prowl, trying to guess the next move, firmly aware of the strange sandbox they were playing in.

Outside, the thunderstorm only grew stronger.

* * *

 **August 23 - 4:18 AM – Hallway 2**

The dark never disturbed Springtrap. After all, he endured twenty long years of it locked away in its still solitude. But now, it invigorated him, and he felt strong and capable in this weird world of morbid horrors.

The carcass-containing rabbit drew closer to the office, leaving naked bulbs flickering and buzzing security cameras in his wake. His dark shape blended with the shadows, closing in on his target like a Great White in pursuit of prey.

Springtrap looked at the yellow light in Hallway 2 that blinked from Chica's head on the floor; it made his silver eyes shine.

"I hope you are enjoying this game, Little Dougie. I know I am…" he whispered, hissing with pleasure, adding "… because I am going to win. I always won when we played our games."

The storm was in high gear. Rain washed the asphalt in sheets, winds rattled the rusty galvanized roofing, and thunder and lightning beat upon the earth and skies with extraordinary fervour.

Springtrap cast his carefully appraising eyes upwards towards CAM 08 and saw the little red light which let him know he was actively being watched.

He stood totally still as he usually did whenever the cameras were trained on him, _"Just like how those pieces of junk did before me,"_ pondered Springtrap, thinking back to the stories the other night guards told of the animatronics freezing in place whenever sighted on camera, _"Now I know why they did that… they wanted to keep the night guards guessing if they were really going to kill them, or if it was just their night mode. Luckily, thanks to my little rewiring, they always thought the night guards were me. Better the other guys than me. Heh heh…"_

Springtrap leered at the camera for a good thirty-five minutes, "Now you see me, now you don't!" he snickered, and then made another move, chuckling when he noticed the camera's light flickering rapidly as he passed under it; more of the supernatural, electro-magnetic interference he could cause by slight focus of will.

As he crawled into Hallway 4's vent, approaching CAM 13, the rabbit thought more about the past. _"_ _Do you remember when we played together, my little one? Do you remember the special games we played whenever we were alone?"_ he reminisced, _"I loved it when I played those special games with you, Little Dougie, and you would've learned to love them too if_ they _didn't interfere all the time."_

Springtrap smiled provocatively to himself as visions of a sweet, innocent six-year-old boy danced in his head, and warm, enticing sensations of carnal desire swept over him like a gentle tide. The lustful feelings concentrated in the springlock suit's pelvis area, settling between his hips; he was aroused, but knew he no longer had anything to act upon his urges with.

The springlocks and the rats took care of that long ago.

He cursed in annoyance at his 'accident' twenty years ago and crawled, narrowly avoiding the vent door that tried to shut him off from Hallway 7, "Not this time, Little Dougie," he said, as he exited the shaft.

Directly in front of him he saw the wide office window and stepped right up to it. Inside, he saw the seated, tense figure of Douglas Blackburn searching desperately for him on the camera monitor, his brown eyes were glued to the screen and a composed exterior hid intense feelings of fright.

Springtrap blinked, opting not to alert the object of his obsession, and instead remained like a statue, waiting.

 _"_ _If there's one thing I know how to smell, Little Dougie… it's fear. You don't have to be afraid of me, your old friend, Vincent. Everything will soon be as it should. I promise…."_

* * *

 **5:11 AM – The Office**

"Where has he gone now?!" quaked Douglas uncertainly as he tried his damndest to locate Springtrap on the fizzing screens. "Where the hell is he, godammit?!"

The past few hours were an exercise in pure concentration and fear as he waged a battle of cat and mouse in a fight for survival. The lagomorphic abomination was getting faster and more adept at hiding and closing the distance between him and the office, crossing hallways and long distances in what seemed like mere seconds. One minute, Springtrap could be in Hallway 1, but then **_BZZZZTTT!_** and next minute he would appear in Hallway 6, perhaps ready to scramble inside a vent.

It was crazy to Douglas, and the unpredictable appearances of the phantom animatronics complicated things and distracted his attention. He barely avoided Phantom Balloon Boy with his laughing face plastered on certain screens, Phantom Freddy twice again limped outside his window, Phantom Mangle hung creepily in Hallway 6, while Phantom Foxy's sinister warnings echoed throughout the building. The charred fox reappeared more than once in his office ready to lunge if stared at for too long. Douglas quickly had to learn to ignore them if he wanted to keep all systems working.

"Why are those ghost things after me too?" he said, closing the cameras so he could rest his eyes momentarily, "I didn't do – Holy shit!"

When the monitor left his sight, what he saw made him feel as if he'd stuck his finger into a bulb socket.

A bulky, shadowy mass, its eyes glistening in the darkness, stared at him through the office window with a look of malevolent satisfaction written all over its horrid face.

Springtrap!

The devilish rabbit loomed monstrously in the outside corridor, staring at him with hungry eyes in an expression that said in no uncertain terms: Got you now!

Douglas froze, paralyzed with fear as waves of déjà vu crashed over him, _"No! He must've slipped through before the vent closed!"_

Springtrap just stood there, unlike the night before, allowing Douglas to watch him frightfully, as if playing some twisted rendition of "Red Light, Green Light".

Douglas grabbed his baseball bat and pointed it warningly at Springtrap, knowing it would not intimidate him in the least, but showing that he was willing to put up more of a fight this time around.

Springtrap saw the bat and his jaws opened wide in demonic amusement. His silver eyes were alight with terrible glee and he chuckled maliciously. His face was the face of a devil.

"Not this time!" determined Douglas through gritted teeth, flipping open his monitor and switching to CAM 10. He did not notice Springtrap darting out of sight the moment the screen came up.

 _"_ _Hi!"_ chirped Balloon Boy's voice when Douglas pressed the **'play audio'** button.

Nothing.

No buzzing of static.

No appearance of Springtrap in the feed.

Nothing.

"Shit! Why didn't it work?!" panicked Douglas, pressing the button again and hearing the childish laughter.

Nothing again.

Then the screen went black with static.

"No no no! Don't you do this to me!" he cried out, slapping the side of the screen but to no avail. "I have to reboot it quickly!"

He swiveled to his left and flipped up the maintenance panel, seeing the error text next to **'camera system'** and pressing the reboot button to get it working again.

"Got it!" Douglas announced to himself seconds later, shutting down the panel and shrieking when he saw a hostile pair of eyes peeking at him from outside. The sickeningly recognizable shape slinked behind the hallway's corner when sighted and Douglas knew that the next time he glanced over there, Springtrap would be right in the office to greet him.

"Oh fuck!" cursed Douglas, going back to his camera monitor, "Don't fail me now!" and without hesitation, when he was sure Springtrap was ready to make a grab for him, he stabbed the audio button with his finger and the sweet sound of laughter rang through his ears. He heard an angry growling outside accompanied by mechanical joints and parts fighting each other, and the strained clomping of slow, unwilling footsteps.

Panting, Douglas looked up at the window and saw Springtrap crossing the hallway, clearly against his will as his body jerked and twitched every few seconds and it looked as if he was trying to pull himself back to the office. Springtrap glared at him, a foul sneer on his face, and then disappeared out of sight, muttering and cursing in bitter defeat.

Only when he saw the seething rabbit appear on CAM 10, did Douglas relax a bit and lean back into his chair. He blurted out a nervous laugh and wiped sweat from his forehead, "Ha ha! That was a close one, I'll say!"

The rain continued hitting the roof like spent shell casings from a celestial gunfight.

 ** _BOOOOMMMMMM!_**

Another roar of thunder.

This time it sounded so near and so loud that it shook the entire building to its foundations. Douglas squeezed his eyes shut tightly from being startled by the noise, when he opened them up, he thought it was darker than normal everywhere. Each time he blinked hard or shook his head, the light seemed fainter, weaker, somehow.

"It must be my eyes, but is it getting darker in here?" Douglas asked as the dull lighting began to flicker and fade, "Oh God no! Please no!"

Blackout.

Douglas gripped his armrests tightly and breathed deep and fast, trying not to let panic overtake him as he sat in the inky silence, knowing that he had to make a break for the nearby exit.

"The storm must've knocked out the power," Douglas deduced, stuffing his camera in his pocket and pulling out his iPhone 5 and switching on the flashlight function; the tiny fluorescent glare did little to prick the black sheet enveloping him.

"I have to run before Springtrap comes back!" he declared, standing up and preparing to bolt.

 _"_ _Now we can finally play together, Little Dougie! Hee hee hee! Ready or not, here I come!"_

Douglas felt intensely cold, as if someone had left a window wide open, and a freezing draught were flowing in upon hearing the animatronic's mocking, syrupy voice closing in; he heard metallic footsteps approaching the office and knew there was no time to make it to the exit.

 _"_ _Uh-oh! What do I do now?!"_ quaked Douglas inside, chewing his lip nervously. He spun around and saw the open ventilation shaft. "That's it! I'll crawl through here and make my way to the other exit."

He quickly tucked his makeshift flashlight into his shirt pocket, grabbed his bat and got down on all fours, making little noise as he slowly started to creep through the metal tunnel. Douglas cast one more glance back at the office and stifled a gasp when he saw the glowing white lights from Springtrap's eyes drifting past the office window, searching for him.

Douglas quickened his pace quietly down the shaft and made a left turn, exiting from the vent opening straight ahead. He stood up and took out his light whilst still gripping the bat; his heart sank upon seeing Bonnie's lone flashing eye and his recobbled purple remains, and realized he was in Hallway 6.

Springtrap was still very close by.

 _"_ _Damn! I should've taken the second left turn! That would've put me out right by the exit. I have to go back!"_ he mentally kicked himself in exasperation, but he stopped before he could crawl back inside because he noticed something odd stuck up on the wall.

 _"_ _Wait a minute..."_ he mouthed the words, _"That wasn't there before."_

It was a poster of Spring Bonnie. A hand drawn, hand-coloured poster of the golden brown rabbit waving both hands and staring at the viewer with one bright white eye while the other remained cold, black and empty. The image was affixed to where the cartoony Freddy Fazbear poster usually was, where Douglas had seen Springtrap staring at it several times before, looking as if it always belonged there.

" _What is this doing here? Where did it come from?"_ he thought, shining his light on the poster and stepping closer until he was in front of it; it was so familiar and he could feel it almost calling out to him.

Douglas hesitated, and then lifted the hand holding his bat and, slowly, gently brushed the glossy paper surface with his finger tips.

A flash of white light suddenly forced him to snap his eyes closed. When he opened them again, nothing could prepare him for what he saw next.

He stood in a darkened room, the soft dancing of five candle flames on a pink and white frosted cake provided dim lighting; it was a heavy room, marked with terrible suffering and excruciating pain.

Douglas realized that he was six-years-old once more. It was another flashback; a memory from the past unveiling itself; a deed done in darkness coming to light. He felt a rising sense of panic when he saw what was in front of him.

Bodies.

Five dead children's bodies were propped up lifelessly in their seats at a low, round table; five pieces of half-eaten cake were set before each of them. He could not see their faces nor make out any of their features for they were just like shadows, only blackness filling in the shapes of children, but children nonetheless. Douglas did not know how, but they were his friends.

His dead, murdered friends.

Amber.

Jamie.

Yoni.

Nicky.

Jeff.

All dead.

Douglas heard himself cry out and then he felt his hands were wet with something cold and sticky. He lifted and stared at his palms, and then screamed and screamed and screamed.

Blood.

His hands were covered in shimmering red.

Douglas was clutched with such fright that he couldn't breathe anymore to scream, couldn't speak. He heard a noise and snapped his head towards the sound, still keeping his palms raised, afraid to lower them, and spoke when he heard footsteps slowly approach.

"I-I-I'm sorry…! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he sobbed hysterically, stepping back as a shape began to emerge from the shadows.

A low, whispery voice grunted, "What did you do? _What. Did. You. Do?!_ "

Before anything else could happen, Douglas was hurled out of the past into the present, the images melting together and retreating into a once empty recess of his mind, never to move again.

Douglas gasped loudly and dropped his bat and phone; they clattered loudly to the ground as the man stood there in stunned shock, trembling like a leaf at the revelations. _"I was there..."_ he reckoned in near-hysterical thoughts, _"_ _ _I was there!_ I was there when my friends were killed! And I had something to do with it!"_

His head swam as the horrifying implications set in, but none of it made any sense. Why would he kill his five best friends? How could his six-year-old self accomplish that? Did whoever kill them also murder the other children in 1986? Why? For what reason? And why was he left alive at the scene?

Douglas bent over to retrieve his phone and baseball bat, forgetting all about the fact that he was not alone in Fazbear's Fright, forgetting that he still had to escape, forgetting that there was an open doorway right behind him. As he stood up, checking his screen for cracks, he had no way of seeing the twisted, decayed, terrifying shape looming a foot behind him. He couldn't see the light wash over the greenish-yellow face with its triumphant slasher smile and cold glowing eyes, or the one good lapine ear and its stumpy companion twitching in anticipation. He only smelt the awful, foul stench and heard the all-too-familiar bone-chilling hiss rattling in his ears.

 ** _"_** ** _PSSCCCCHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!"_**

Before Douglas could move or scream, a pair of powerful, waiting arms rushed forward and seized him. One huge hand clotted with blood gagged his mouth and muffled any sounds while another huge hand obstructed his eyes; he could see right through the holes in the animatronic's hand as well as fleshy bits from the body within. Douglas kicked his feet and struggled hard, but it was no use.

The mechanical monster called Springtrap had him in his clutches.

"I've got you now, Little Dougie!" grinned Springtrap devilishly in his raspy voice, before easily dragging Douglas into the corridor behind them, the man's shoes smacking against the floor, his arms flailing wildly and his phone clattering to the ground once more as he was carried away helplessly with no hope of escape into Hallway 5.

Meanwhile, Bonnie's reassembled pieces, the only witness to the unfolding events, passively blinked his yellow flashing eye and the corridor was drab once more.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

 **Oh no! Springtrap's got Douglas now! What's going to happen to him? Find out in the next chapter!**

 **Talking of which, the next one is going to contain a VERY disturbing scene, so be forewarned.**

 **Feel free to leave any questions, comments or reviews, I thoroughly appreciate every single one. ;-)**

 **Until next time!**


	19. When You Can See, How Fast Can You Flee?

**Hola! Sorry it's taken so long for this chapter, but I had gotten a new job and that's taken up a good bit of my time, plus, I really wanted to get it right in that I wanted to capture the horror and revulsion of what is being done, but not go too explicit and violate the site's rules nor leave it too vague and have the reader feel that I have not done justice to real life victims. So I spoke with the prosecutor and psychiatrist I had consulted before, and did lots more research to get an even better comprehension of things. Below is the end result, and let me say, it was not easy to write.**

 _ **WARNING:**_ **This chapter contains scenes and thoughts of a highly pedophilic nature. One scene in particular is somewhat graphic, but would be very unsettling to people nonetheless. Therefore, if you know you will be disturbed or triggered by this subject matter, I strongly recommend you either skip the scene in question or skip this chapter altogether. I will be giving another warning to everyone before the scene starts.**

* * *

 **When You Can See, How Fast Can You Flee?**

* * *

 **5:34 AM – Inside Fazbear's Fright – Hallway 5**

The thunderstorm was over.

Gone were the chaotic clouds, the jagged lightning, and the booming thunder, vanishing into the aether to make way for Eos to usher in a new dawn and unravel the cloak of night.

Outwardly, Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction appeared as it always did to passersby: a gloomy, dull, windowless crypt, distinguished by its garish sign of the large pizza topped with human body parts and blood with the shadowy Fazbear crew leering demonically at them. But inside now, it was a different story. A fight for survival was taking place, between man and monster, and the man was losing.

Douglas Blackburn's worst nightmare had come true.

 _"_ _No! He's got me! Springtrap's got me!"_

The beast, Springtrap, restrained his catch with little effort. The twenty-six-year-old was no match for the strength his animatronic body granted him, and he was pleased to have claimed the prize he waited twenty years for.

"I've won, Little Dougie," he smiled perversely at the man who struggled pitifully in his powerful grasp, "You're mine now."

Douglas, his mouth smothered by Springtrap's huge, heavy, smelly hand, tried desperately to free himself from peril with all his might. His mind raced with panic and dread at what was happening, fearful of just what the demented animatronic was planning to do to him. He was dragged into Hallway 5 with his legs and ankles moving in a spastic dance, his feet lifting off the floor, squirming, kicking, pulled away into the shadows.

The security guard could no longer scream, he instead gurgled as if he was screaming underwater; he was frantically reaching up with his hand, clawing at the rabbit's head above him, his fingers brushing worn and decayed foams and plastics, grazing against wide, squarish teeth and touching the human skull behind them. Springtrap's stench was as awful as he remembered it from yesterday when he hugged him to save Peter, and here it was again enveloping him and forcing its way up his nostrils, threatening to make him pass out.

 _"_ _I have to get free! Must get away!"_

Then he saw the aluminium bat in his right hand and remembered picking it up the moment before he was grabbed. He desperately swung it around, trying to aim it upwards where Springtrap's face was. If he could just score one direct hit, then maybe...

"Ah ah ah," tut-tutted Springtrap's hoarse and gravelly voice, "You don't need that, Little Dougie. Let's put that away now, shall we?"

He seized Douglas's wrist with one strong paw and clenched hard.

Douglas grimaced terribly and cried out in pain from the vice-like grip tightening around his wrist, but he still held on to the bat, struggling for control, for it was his only chance to escape.

"Let it go, Little Dougie. You don't want to hurt yourself now, _do you_?" teased Springtrap with a mocking chuckle as he squeezed harder and slowly twisted the man's wrist at a painful angle.

"Aaahhhhh!" yowled Douglas, finally dropping the bat, no longer able to bear the pain, and watching with distress as it clanked loudly on the tiles and rolled away into the darkness.

"Atta boy," Springtrap said softly, as he stopped in the darkest corner of Hallway 5, right beneath CAM 03. At the opposite end, Foxy's old hung-up head blinked his dull eye indifferently at the unexpected intrusion into his domain.

Douglas's heart palpitated in his chest when Springtrap finally stopped dragging him away, _"Oh my God! What's happening? What's he gonna do?"_ he thought with panic and despair as the living machine removed his hand from over his mouth, so that the smell of death was not so potent by his nose.

He gulped hard, and shivered like an autumn leaf; a painful knot in his neck swelled from being held around the throat by Springtrap's huge greenish-yellow hands, and his entire body was covered in goose pimples from the hellish rabbit's decaying body pressing up against his.

"P-p-please..." croaked Douglas. He nearly sobbed with fright when the lagomorph slowly lifted a hand from his throat while still holding him firmly in place. He gasped when he felt the hand rest on his head, and flinched when Springtrap combed his fingers through his hair, and then again, and again.

"Ahhhh, Little Dougie... my Little Dougie..." cooed Springtrap as he stroked the soft brown strands, pleased that Douglas still washed his hair with the same vanilla shampoo from twenty years ago.

"Please..." whimpered Douglas again, terrified at his predicament, "Don't hurt me... Please don't hurt me, Vincent."

Springtrap stopped running his fingers playfully through Douglas's hair at the sound of his old name. The ghoulish white glow of his eyes changed to an eerie shade of purple, and he leaned forward, and Douglas felt the hare's muzzle, and then his wide, blunt teeth, moving against his neck.

"So you do remember me..." Springtrap gently whispered, tenderly brushing the back of his fingers against the young man's face, recalling the feeling of his smooth, soft skin from 1993.

Douglas nodded cautiously as if handcuffed to a suicide bomber, "Yes. I... I do. I didn't at first, Vincent. It's been... It's been twenty years."

"And how you've grown, Little Dougie," remarked Springtrap, and then he stroked his hair once more. "But you're still my special, special little friend."

The rabbit's stench was appalling, Douglas felt his stomach contract, and he gagged before asking the dreaded question, "W-why are doing this? Why are you after me?"

Springtrap paused, his grotesque smile broadened even more, and then he wrapped both of his arms around his hostage, pulling him in closer to himself with a tight hug, and putting his animatronic mouth right next to Douglas's ear. Douglas shivered as he felt the large teeth moving against his ear, and heard the unnerving voice speak.

"You belong to me, Little Dougie. You have _always_ belonged to me."

'W-w-what?"

"Don't be afraid… big boys are not afraid. Remember?"

"Big boys?"

"Ah, so you don't remember our special playtimes…"

"'P-playtimes'?"

"Oh yes. I loved it when I played with you, my little one. I loved showing you what it was to become a big boy. We had so much fun together you and me."

From those words, Douglas Blackburn felt his world crack and crumble into tiny insignificant pieces as if none of it mattered anymore, or if what he knew was never there to begin with, a house dividing against itself and no longer standing.

Gone.

All that was left in the rubble was the truth. The hideous, revolting truth from one eventful day, back in 1993, that changed everything, the horrifying implications of Springtrap's words hitting him like a ton of bricks.

It was all starting to come back, minute by stomach-churning minute.

"Oh… my… God…" said Douglas in a breathy, strained whisper as the images from twenty years ago seeped into his head and made him feel swimmy and detached, as if he was suffering the after-effects of riding a Gravitron.

Springtrap chuckled at his captive's reaction, pleased but indifferent to his inner turmoil.

"You're remembering now, aren't you? That day when I first played with you…" he hissed as he drifted back with Douglas to 1993 when he took their special friendship to a whole new other level.

* * *

 **July 26, 1993 – 12:05 PM - Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

 _Dougie Blackburn was very happy today._

 _The past few days were some of the most exhilarating and fun-filled he ever had at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. His great new friend Vincent treated him like privileged royalty and gave him the best the restaurant had to offer: free pizza and drinks, all the ice cream, cake and candies he could eat, pockets full of Faz Tokens for the arcade games, nice new toys to take home and play with, and best of all, he got to meet Freddy Fazbear one-on-one and became his special friend!_

 _Right now, he sat in front of the show stage watching Freddy, Bonnie and Chica performing one of his favourite songs,_ "Down by the Bay" _, to a chorus of enthused kids who danced along with the animatronics' pre-programmed, jerky movements as the purple, green and yellow stage lights flashed and twirled excitedly across the animated performers._

 ** _"_** ** _Down by the bay  
Where the watermelons grow  
Back to my home  
I dare not go  
For if I do  
My mother will say_**

 ** _Did you ever see a pig  
Wearing a wig?_**

 ** _Down by the bay."_**

 _Dougie moved his head side to side with the beat, smiling as he cheerfully sang the silly lyrics, unaware that he was being watched from afar with wanting eyes. Behind the eyes was the twisted mind of a monster, hidden by a handsome face and a charming smile, plotting the next step of his depraved plan for the prepubescent youth._

 _"_ _You came to me again last night, Little Dougie," smiled Vincent DiCarlo to himself as he leaned with folded arms against a wall, never taking his intensely blue eyes off the child, and remembering the deeply arousing dreams he had while he slept. They teased and tortured him with titillating images, and so inflamed his lustful passions that he even moaned and cried out his obsession's name in his slumber. But the spare pillow was the only one to experience the disgusting display of depravity._

 _"_ _That was so much fun,"_ _he continued in his mind,_ _"Now it's time for me to bring that fun into your world..."_

 _Vincent unclipped his walkie-talkie from his belt,_ "Barry?" _he spoke into it._

"Uh, hello?" _came Barry Driscoll's voice on the other end,_ "What can I do for you, Vincent?"

 _Vincent kept looking at the boy - he was such a beautiful boy - and then said,_ "Barry, I need you to go to the prize corner for me and get one of the prize shirts; a small one with Freddy on it."

"Huh? Uh, how come?" _questioned Barry._

"Let's just say it's going to be a gift for someone _very_ special," _said Vincent, emphasizing the word 'very' in a suggestive manner._

"Ohhhh..." _caught on Barry,_ "I'll be right on it."

"Be quick about it, too," _ordered Vincent before clipping the walkie-talkie back on his belt and focusing on Dougie again, who was clapping with the other kids when the colourful animals finished their song._

 _"_ _He looks good today,"_ _the purple-uniformed man thought, looking at his healthy brown complexion and delightful smile, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,_ _"He looks so very… tasty…"_

 _A few minutes later, an obese thirty-four-year-old man lumbered awkwardly over towards Vincent, clutching a sealed plastic bag containing the requested shirt. He was quite clearly not used to moving so fast since he appeared to be a bit tired and out of breath._

 _Vincent turned up his nose slightly in disgust as the man, a whale out of the ocean, came his way. "Barry, oh Barry... you big ball of lard," he thought, noticing the sweat stains in the armpits of his purple security guard shirt, "If you weren't so useful to me, I would've fired your fat ass long ago."_

 _He quickly smiled when his co-worker handed him the shirt with a pale hand,_ "Thank you Barry," _said Vincent, gratefully taking it and looking at the cartoony image of Freddy on the front of the crimson T-shirt,_ "He's going to love this."

"So you're really doing this?" _said Barry, adjusting his glasses which seemed too small for his chubby face,_ "You're really doing this again?"

"Yes Barry. I am," _Vincent replied curtly, still staring at the shirt with Freddy's bright blue eyes that seemed to stare back._

"Who is it?"

"The little brown boy in blue sitting at the front."

"Hmm... he's really cute."

"He's perfect."

"Are you sure though? I mean, you remember what happened last time with Tim –"

"Little Dougie is _not_ Timmy!" _Vincent cut off sharply, whispering harshly to Barry who seemed taken aback at the change in tone,_ "And he's not Adam either. He won't try and betray me like they did."

"Uh OK…" _conceded Barry, running a hand through his thinning, greasy hair and scratching his unshaven neckbeard,_ "Do you have what I need?"

"Almost," _replied Vincent, turning his gaze back towards Dougie who was finishing up a slice from an 8-inch chocolate chip cookie, not unlike the kind found in Pizza Hut, and licking the gooey chocolate from his little fingers._

"It'll be ready by the end of this month, like I said before," _he finished, glancing up at the stage where Bonnie was telling a corny knock-knock joke about a broken pencil._

"OK Vincent, I just hope it's really good," _said Barry, blinking his beady brown eyes at his superior._

 _Vincent looked at him with a knowing smirk,_ "Have I ever disappointed you before?"

"No sir, you haven't!" _piped up Barry with a light chuckle,_ "Anything else I can do for you?"

"There is," _started Vincent, pausing to give a little friendly wave at Dougie who had seen him and waved happily first._ "Make sure nobody comes into the boys' bathroom. Put up an 'Out of Order' sign or something, but only after he goes in. Clear out any others inside if you have to. I already have a distraction in place."

"On the double then!" _declared Barry, waddling like an oversized penguin on tiny feet as he left._

"Tub of shit," _muttered Vincent disdainfully under his breath._

"Hi Vincent!" _chirped Dougie's voice out of nowhere._

 _Vincent jumped slightly, turned, and looked down to see the little boy with a big smile plastered on his face._ "Heya, Little Dougie!" _he greeted, messing up his hair playfully,_ "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Oh yeah!" _Dougie replied, momentarily glancing back at the animatronics on the stage before facing Vincent again._ "That was one of my favourite songs, and Bonnie's jokes are really funny!"

"Ha ha!" _Vincent laughed softly,_ "Oh, that old bunny! He's quite the joker when he's ready!"

"The cookie was really yummy, Vincent. Thanks!" _grinned Dougie, showing the bits of chocolate still stuck to his teeth._

"Anything for my special little friend," _Vincent_ _warmly said with a nod of his purple-capped head,_ "Speaking of which, I got a new present for you. Here you go."

 _The man handed the child the bag with the shirt and the boy squealed happily when he saw Freddy's face beaming back at him._

"YAY!" _cheered Dougie with an excited hop,_ "You got me a Freddy shirt! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"My pleasure, kiddo," _Vincent winked, kneeling down so Dougie could give him a hug, which he did with much enthusiasm._

 _The man sighed from the little arms around his neck and the feeling of soft skin against his own; the scent of vanilla from Dougie's hair mixed with his natural boyish smell was a sweet fragrance to his nostrils, and he felt a smile bloom on his face and a warmth in his crotch that never failed to appear whenever he was so close to his little one._

"Hey, you know what, Little Dougie?" _said Vincent suddenly as he pulled away from the hug,_ "Why don't you go and try it on right now?"

"Really?" _said Dougie, looking at the shirt again._

"Sure!" _smiled Vincent,_ "I'd love to see how you look in it and if it fits right. You can go change in the bathroom."

 _He gestured with his head over to the right-hand side of the dining area where the passageway that led to the restrooms was located._

"OK!" _agreed Dougie, and then he headed off to the boys' bathroom with a merry skip in his stride._

 _Vincent rose up slowly, eyeing the six-year-old yearningly as he departed, a familiar tightness forming in the front of his pants and forbidden thoughts pouring into his mind. He needed to walk to him, to make love to him, to make him his. All his. But slowly, patiently, step by step. He had been too fast with Adam, and too impatient with Timmy, although the latter's friends only worsened things. Vincent grunted at recalling the events which took place years ago and forced himself to focus on the present; this was a new time now, a new opportunity to have what he wanted, a new chance to make it work._

 _He stayed in his spot for a few moments, waiting for his prepared distraction to kick in before he made his next move. It was sure to hold everyone's attention while he did his deed; it was something catchy, infectious and irresistible, and it included everyone's favourite characters._

 _Vincent smiled when he saw Chica the chicken start to move again, turning her big yellow body with her pink cupcake on its platter to face her band mates._

 _Showtime._

"Do you guys know how to Jamaica Ska?" _Chica asked in her perky, girlish voice._

"Jamaica what?" _responded Freddy, rigidly turning to look at his backup singer with a puzzled expression._

"Ha ha!" _chuckled Bonnie, twitching his purple ears and blinking his red eyes,_ "Yeah, sure Chica, it's a required course at Fazbear College!"

 _He and Freddy burst out with hearty guffaws while Chica swiveled around to face the sea of kids and adults._

"Well, do _you_ know how to Jamaica Ska?" _she said to the audience which was eager to see and hear this new song from 'The Fazbears'._

 ** _"_** ** _NNNOOOOOOOOO!"_** _all the children returned with gusto._

 _Chica lifted her cupcake._

"Well, boys and girls, let me show you how it's done!" _she replied as Freddy and Bonnie took a few steps back and Chica walked to center stage. Catchy Caribbean music began to blare from the speakers and all three animatronics, with Chica leading the vocals, started to sing._

 ** _"_** ** _Ska Ska Ska!  
Jamaica Ska!  
Ska Ska Ska!  
Do the Ska!_**

 _ **Not many people can cha, cha, cha**_  
 _ **Not everybody can do the Twist**_  
 _ **But everybody can do the Ska**_  
 _ **It's the new dance you can't resist!**_

 _ **Ska Ska Ska!**_  
 _ **Jamaica Ska!"**_

 _"_ _Vincent, you done good,"_ _congratulated Vincent mentally as he crossed over to the bathrooms, passing throngs of children and their parents who were already dancing to the extremely infectious rhythm and beat with some even doing the song's easy dance moves,_ _"This was a perfect song to distract everyone with."_

 ** _"_** ** _Now everybody can do the Ska  
It's the new dance that goes like this!_**

 ** _Now bow your head_**  
 ** _And swing your arms_**  
 ** _Shake your hips_**  
 ** _Now do a dip_**

 ** _Ska Ska Ska_**  
 ** _Jamaica Ska_**  
 ** _Ska Ska Ska_**  
 ** _Do the Ska!"_**

 _He reached the hallway and cast one last glance back at the jubilant crowd that was oblivious to what was about to happen. The purple man only smirked and then he was gone._

* * *

 **As I said in the beginning of this chapter, I was going to issue another warning when the disturbing scene was about to take place. So... _IF YOU KNOW THAT YOU ARE GOING TO BE DISTURBED OR TRIGGERED BY A SCENE OF CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE SKIP THIS ENTIRE SECTION! SCROLL PAST THE REPEATED "FNAF" THAT WILL MARK THE PARTS WHERE THE SCENE STARTS AND WHEN IT ENDS._  
**

 ** _THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!_**

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF_**

* * *

 **12:25 PM – The Boys' Bathroom**

 _Dougie admired the new shirt in the mirror, smoothing out the creases and smiling at Freddy's happy face. The top's reddish colour nicely complimented the bear's brown fur and it fit perfectly on his little frame; already, he really loved it._

 _Slowly, the bathroom door swung open, and in stepped Vincent._

"Oh hi, Vincent!" _smiled Dougie,_ "I was just coming to show you the shirt. I really love it a lot. Thank you!"

 _Vincent returned the smile._ "I'm glad. Thought I'd come in and see it first before anyone else… just you and me alone… together."

 _Dougie giggled. The childish melody sent lustful ripples through the guard's body and he felt his heart thump in his ear drums and his breaths deepen. He was aroused more than ever now that he was finally alone with the boy._

 _"_ _Just you and me alone… together,"_ _he repeated in his mind as he carefully shut the door behind him and slowly turned the lock._

 _The six-year-old did not hear the door being locked as his attention was still focused on his reflection in the mirror, marvelling at the shirt. Vincent quietly sauntered up behind the child, coming closer and closer until mere centimeters separated them, Dougie remained blissfully unaware at what he was up to, protected by tinted glasses of naiveté and innocence._

"You look really good in it, Little Dougie," _uttered Vincent, placing both hands on the boy's shoulders and giving a gentle, tender squeeze._ "I think you look like a big boy in it."

"Nuh-uh," _dismissed Dougie, shaking his head and smoothing out another wrinkle on Freddy's face,_ "I still look the same. I don't think this shirt is magic."

"Hmmm... well what if I told you there was another way you could become a big boy? A shortcut?" _proposed Vincent as his hands softly caressed Dougie's shoulders, making him feel slightly uneasy._

"What do you mean?" _Dougie asked._

"I can make you a big boy faster than all the rest," _explained Vincent as he removed his cap, exposing more of his pulled-back dark brown hair, and set it down on the countertop beside Dougie's other sky blue shirt._ "We can play some special games. Fun games. We'll play together until you become a big boy, and then you can be the one to tease Jamie. How do you like the sound of that?"

"It sounds great, I guess…" _trailed off Dougie as he felt the man's hands slowly start to travel down his back, and he trembled nervously._

 _Vincent felt the tremble and whispered reassuringly,_ "Don't be afraid, Little Dougie," _and then he reached down and gave his rear end a little squeeze,_ "I really like you… I really, _really_ like you… a lot."

 _Dougie's eyes shot open wide and he gasped and jumped,_ "Wh-what are you doing, Vincent?"

"This is what some boys like you have to do if they want to get big fast, Little Dougie," _purred Vincent,_ "I'm your friend. I care about you. I love you. That's why I'm doing this to help you. It's a good thing."

"But I – " _said Dougie, his voice quavering with apprehension and confusion, but Vincent cut him off._

"Besides, don't you remember your promise to Freddy?" _he said, beginning to stroke his hair while locking eyes with him in the mirror._ "You promised Freddy that you'd do whatever I tell you to, no matter how hard it feels. I'm a grown-up, and I know what's best for you."

"Oh…" _recalled Dougie, remembering his fateful promise._

 _Vincent stooped down so that he could whisper straight into Dougie's small brown ear._ "And I'm sure you don't want to let Freddy down," _he spoke manipulatively, playing his trump card and knowing the result it would achieve._ "Poor Freddy would be so heartbroken and disappointed in you if you break your promise to him. He won't want to be your friend anymore if you let him and me down. Do you want that, Little Dougie?"

 _Dougie felt trapped. If he didn't do what Vincent told him to, he would lose not only his new, awesome friend, but Freddy would no longer want to be his friend either. He loved Freddy so much and Freddy had placed so much confidence in him. To lose the bear's love and friendship would be the end of the world; and he still would not be a big boy. Just a pathetic little baby._

 _With a deep exhale of shaky breath, Dougie gave his slow answer._

"No. I don't want that, Vincent," _he said quietly,_ "I don't want to lose Freddy."

 _Vincent gave a pleased smile. Inside, he was grinning in triumph._

 _Dougie belonged to him now._

"That's a good boy," _he whispered_ _, and patted his head._ "Now, let's get you on top here…"

 _Vincent firmly gripped Dougie's waist and lifted him off the floor, sitting him on the sink's black soapstone countertop. He momentarily squirmed and looked downwards, and Vincent heard him sniffle wetly._

"What's the matter, Little Dougie?" _Vincent asked, noticing teardrops running down his cheeks._

 _Dougie looked at him with watery eyes,_ "Please don't hurt me, Vincent," _he feebly squeaked._

"It's OK, my sweet Little Dougie," _reassured Vincent, cupping his hand reassuringly on his left cheek and giving a gentle squeeze._ "Don't worry… I'm not going to hurt you. I could never hurt you. I want to make you feel good."

"O-OK," _stuttered Dougie, wiping away his tears._

 _Vincent grinned broadly._

"This is normal. This is how men teach special little boys like you to grow up faster," _he explained, adding,_ "Let me take this shirt off you."

 _He moved his hands downward until they found the shirt's hem and then he slowly lifted it up over Dougie's head and rested it beside the other one, leaving his upper body bare and exposed to the bathroom's cool temperature. Vincent looked him up and down, his eyes rolling over his body like ball-bearings, and then licked his lips and stared incredulously. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. The boy's light complexion looked very smooth and sweet like caramel, and the fact that it seemed unblemished and unmarred by cuts, scars, birthmarks or any imperfections was an added bonus for him. He was reminded of a Greek statue of Ganymede, the loveliest born of the race of mortals; the beloved of Zeus._

 _He had to touch it. He had to experience it._

 _Vincent's hands rubbed over his chest and belly and Dougie shivered and felt goose pimples appear on his skin as he was touched by the thirty-nine-year-old man._

"Don't be shy," _spoke Vincent again as his fingers traced over the boy's ribs,_ "You look so beautiful… I'm going to make you feel good."

 _He leaned forward and buried his lips in the crook of Dougie's neck, causing him to gasp from the sensations of Vincent's mouth moving over his throat and his five o'clock shadow scraping audibly over sensitive flesh. As Vincent moved further up Dougie's neck, nuzzling and licking his Adam's apple, his cheek, his ear, he quickly undid his purple tie, unbuttoned his shirt and made another command._

"Open your legs," _he instructed, not moving his head from Dougie's neck as he next unbuckled and unzipped his black pants, to reveal his bulging underwear._

"But… But Vincent, please… I want to stop," _whimpered Dougie, not complying._

"Come on, Little Dougie," _cooed Vincent with a soft nip at his ear,_ "You'll hurt Freddy's feelings. No one's harming you. You can tell how much we love you. Prove to me that you love us."

 _Dougie hesitated, afraid to grant the request, but he did not have time to think about it for more than a second._

"Open your legs," _Vincent repeated again, this time more impatiently and gripping his little knees as if meaning to pry them apart himself._

 _Dougie slowly complied_ _, and then felt Vincent's thighs forcing their way between his._ "Oh Little Dougie… I want you," Vincent _moaned with lust_ _as his_ _hot breath blasted against Dougie's cheek._ "Oh… I need you so much!"

 _The next few minutes sped by so quickly that Dougie felt he had stopped living and wasn't there in the bathroom at all. What was being done to him was so dehumanizing that he no longer felt like a little boy, cheerful and full of sunshine, but a doll stuffed with dry cotton with no expectations of feelings or thoughts or understanding; a veritable plaything that only existed for the sole purpose of being used._

 _Just a plaything._

 _Vincent kept squeezing him and squeezing him, holding and pressing his face, chest and tummy against his white torso while he ground his covered arousal between Dougie's legs, moving his clothed hips with power and rhythm, saying his name over and over again._ _Then, after two minutes, Vincent suddenly withdrew and hurried over to one of the nearby urinals, leaving Dougie to look away and squeeze his eyes shut in shame when he heard the security guard start to make sick moans of relief and gratification._

 _It was all so utterly disgusting to him what had just happened. He wanted to scream, cry and run away from it all to his mother's arms, but he stayed where he was, yet did not know why._

 _Vincent let out a hum of satisfaction as he fixed his pants and buttoned up his shirt, flushing his happy ending down the urinal, and turning to look at Dougie who was silently crying._

"Awww don't cry, Little Dougie," _he comforted,_ "You did really well this first time. You were absolutely wonderful."

"I-I-I was?" _Dougie faltered, looking up at Vincent's face._

"Sure you were. I think you're looking a bit more like a big boy right now. Freddy will be so proud of you!" _he congratulated, placing his cap back on his head and working on his tie._

"I… I don't feel like a big boy," _stuttered Dougie._

"Well, it's going to take some time. But you also gotta promise me and Freddy one more thing," _said Vincent, gripping the sides of the boy's head and looking intently into his brown eyes._

"Don't tell your mommy and daddy what we did," he _ordered in a soft, stern tone._ "Don't tell any of your friends, and don't tell anyone else. _Not. A. Soul._ Do you understand?"

"But why, Vincent?" _asked Dougie._

"Because then you won't become a big boy," _answered Vincent, his ponytail falling over his shoulder._ "It's a secret between all men and boys that they have to keep forever. If the boy breaks his promise, he stays a little baby forever."

 _Dougie said nothing and tried to look away from Vincent's intimidating blue eyes, but Vincent just pulled his head back to look at him._

"And Freddy will not like you anymore. He's going to _hate_ you if you tell, and you will really hurt me if you do," _said Vincent solemnly._ "You don't want to hurt me and Freddy, do you?"

"No."

"Good. Now, do you promise not to tell anyone about what we did in here today?"

"Yes. I promise, Vincent."

"That's my boy. You're doing a good thing," _Vincent congratulated to the child who was still so very unsure about everything. Then suddenly, he crushed his lips against the boy's own, catching him by surprise and making him squirm when he forced his tongue past his teeth and into his mouth._

 _Dougie struggled and shook his head in Vincent's strong grasp as his tongue explored his little mouth, furiously licking inside his cheeks and on his palate, and snaking over his teeth and tongue, pushing further and further to the back of his throat and threatening to make him gag. After what seemed like forever, Vincent pulled away from the disgusting lip lock like a hummingbird with its fill of nectar, panting but satisfied._

"Mmmm… needed that," _he murmured licentiously, stepping back from the shirtless boy who looked like he was about to cry again._ "I'm going back outside now. You wait a few minutes and then come on out."

 _Dougie nodded silently._

"Oh and another thing," _said Vincent,_ "If your mommy and daddy or anyone else asks where you got the shirt and all the other toys and candy I've been giving you from, just say you either won them as prizes or some other kid gave them to you."

"Huh?" _went Dougie, confused._

"We don't want anyone to catch on about our secret," _explained Vincent,_ "Some people will not understand and it will create problems for us. Take it from me, Little Dougie; you're always better off with a really good lie."

 _Then, just like that, Vincent turned on his heels and exited the bathroom back into the festive world of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. The band's song was over and it was soon time for Captain Foxy to tell one of his pirate stories._

 _All alone, the bathroom now felt like an enormous, dark cavern, expanding and growing in size and emptiness as Dougie struggled to comprehend what just happened to him. Inside, he felt powerless and terrible about himself, and conflicting feelings ravaged his conscience. He slid off the sink's counter top and looked at his reflection, red-eyed and ashamed._

 _"_ _Why?"_ _he wondered as he embraced himself, but still feeling Vincent's hands and mouth on every part he touched,_ _"Why do I feel bad? Why does it have to feel like this? I'm supposed to feel good. I'm going to be a big boy. What's wrong with me?"_ _were all the questions that fired off in his head as he reached for his blue shirt._

 _"_ _But Vincent's my friend. He's a grown-up and Freddy wants me to do what he says,"_ _Dougie rationalized with great uncertainty._ _"I have to or else I will hurt him, and Freddy will not like me anymore…"_

 _He looked over at the crimson shirt with the grinning bear,_ "Freddy… I really love you very much and I want to keep on being your friend. Please don't hate me; I'll do whatever you want me to do."

 _The cartoon ursine did not answer back, of course, but to Dougie, the shirt no longer seemed as special as before, as if it had lost… something._

"Whatever you want me to do…"

* * *

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**

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 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**

 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_**  
 ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF,_** ** _FNAF, FNAF, FNAF_**

* * *

 **5:54 AM – Inside Fazbear's Fright – Hallway 5**

Abject horror.

It was the only thing that Douglas felt right now in the present as the revelations from the past exploded with brutal force, and rained merciless devastation on his unprepared mind.

Everything was a lie.

Vincent's kindness, his generosity, his interest… all a lie. A carefully concocted plan geared towards a sickening end; a plot to groom and gain the trust of an innocent child; an evil betrayal. His sinful desires for budding flesh, his wanton lust to possess the boy like a new toy, led him to do something that no child should ever have to experience.

Douglas stiffened, still trapped in Springtrap's steely clutches, and he went pale as one sentence along with the stomach-churning images replayed over and over in his head.

 _"_ _Vincent molested me! Vincent molested me! VINCENT MOLESTED ME!"_ screamed Douglas's mind hysterically, but outside, it seemed his body had shut down and he appeared catatonic.

Springtrap noticed this and blinked his purple, glowing eyes. "That was such a fun time we had together, Little Dougie," he rasped and then let out a little hissing laugh. "Playtime was always my favourite time with you, and we played more special games after that."

Douglas's eyes widened in horror.

 _"_ _There were other times when this happened again!? Oh my God! No… no please!"_ he wanted to cry out loud, but he said nothing. He held his breath, trying to quell his heart, feeling like he would drop down dead any minute from cardiac arrest. He felt an extraordinary sense of loss, as if someone cruelly slashed and tore up the tapestry of his life; every thread, every event, every meaning, all lost to him forever.

"But now that I am back, and I have found you…" smiled Springtrap eerily, his eye colour changing back to their pale, white glow, "You're not going to be taken from me again. No matter what…"

 _"_ _Doug? Douglas! Are you in here? Where are you?"_

A voice suddenly called out his name into the still darkness of the horror attraction. Douglas recognized the voice.

Neil!

 ** _GRRROOOOAANNNN…_** lazily echoed the back door's hinges. Springtrap looked up in its direction and his eyes flared with red light when he realized he was going to be foiled again like the night before.

"Hey Douglas!" Neil called out again, this time louder, "Come on, answer me!"

Douglas went to shout back, but Springtrap clamped his hand over his mouth.

 _"_ _I can kill him with just one hand,"_ he plotted, his eye sockets narrowed until they were angry red slits. " _I'll rip his face off and then I will take Little Dougie away from here…"_

"Let me go. You have to let me go!"

Springtrap stopped his machinations and looked down at Douglas who'd managed to mumble his words out through the holes in his hand.

"You have to let me go. Please," begged Douglas again. "If Neil's here, then it has to be just after six, which means there's daylight. You won't get very far while the sun is up."

The animatronic paused and thought for a moment, and realized he was right. There was no way he'd make a clean getaway with a struggling captive under the sun's all-revealing eye. Too many witnesses. He growled in frustration at the setback, but knew he had to be smart if he was to have what he wanted in the end.

He uncovered his hostage's mouth, but still held on to him.

"Neil!" shouted Douglas through the door of Hallway 5, "I'm here! I'm coming to you right now!"

He dared not raise a commotion, for he knew that Springtrap would just charge through the attraction and gruesomely murder his co-workers in front of him, like how he would have done to Peter had he not intervened; the rabbit's bloodstained hands were proof enough of his homicidal nature.

"You have to let me go, now!" Douglas begged Springtrap, tugging against his iron grip. "I'll be back again tonight… I have to !"

"Oh, I know you will come back, Little Dougie," said Springtrap with a soft chuckle, "You always did. You always came back to me at Freddy's…"

He leaned his head forward, pressing the cold lipless smile onto the back of the head of a greatly horrified Douglas, and made a raspy, hissing, moaning noise of pleasure.

Was it a kiss? Him smelling his hair? Both? It sickened him even further to think about it.

Springtrap quietly released him from his hold.

Douglas stumbled forward, and then whirled around to look at the hulking animatronic in the darkness, standing there in the corner, silent and tall, with that extremely eerie expression on his face; a darkly twisted interpretation of a smile that could be read only as _triumph_ , wicked and evil _triumph_.

"Doug!" called Neil again, "What's the holdup?"

"Just a second, Neil! I dropped my phone!" lied Douglas, turning away from Springtrap momentarily. He jumped when he felt the metal fingers brush through his hair once again, and spun back to the twisted face of the hare who grinned a disgusting leer.

"I'll be seeing you again real soon, Little Dougie…" emitted Springtrap in his horrible voice, seeming taller than before, darker, even more threatening.

Douglas shuddered when he said his name. And just hearing it made him feel sick inside, the same way he'd felt twenty years ago in that bathroom at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. He carefully stepped back, never taking his eyes off Springtrap who just stared back at him in the dark with his glowing eyes and that creepy smile. Now, he was more afraid of him than ever, and more afraid of his past with Vincent, afraid of the truth.

* * *

Springtrap heard Douglas and the man named Neil Cave meet up a few hallways down near the exit. Neil was telling him that the girl, Nina Hunte, was outside fiddling with the fuse box to restore the power to Fazbear's Fright. Douglas was saying something about getting up for a walk and then getting lost in the dark maze of hallways when the storm knocked out the power. Neil bought the story.

The lagomorph laughed to himself. "You still remember what I taught you, Little Dougie. How you're better off with a really good lie."

But then he started to plan ahead for tonight. He had to be faster, sneakier and not waste any time. He'd still play his little game and toy with his target, no doubt about it, but the odds were definitely going to be tipped ever in his favour.

"Those other workers will have to go very soon," he thought, "They could complicate things. I will take care of them."

Then he heard the back door to Fazbear's Fright being shut and locked.

"I'm looking forward to tonight, Little Dougie," he said, "You belong to me… I'll do whatever it takes to keep you."

Springtrap chuckled darkly and began shuffling back to his crate.

"And in the end, I promise you won't get away."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **As I said in the beginning, this chapter was very hard to write not only because I wanted to get it right in what happens, but also because I was constantly having to switch between the mindsets of a sexual predator and a victim, which was not easy at all.**

 **Much of Vincent's dialogue is taken verbatim from actual offenders in what he thinks and says, and he also manipulates Dougie in the same way real life pedophiles do. Likewise, many of Dougie's thoughts and reactions are taken from real life victims, and how he feels during and after the act is how many victims feel when they are abused in this manner.**

 **However, I will promise that this is as explicit as it will get in the story, and there won't be any actual rape that happens to Dougie and neither will any other more invasive acts be done to him. That will not be shown in this story, but will be implied where Vincent's two previous victims are concerned.**

 **Things are going to get even more intense from here on and we will be seeing more flashbacks to come.**

 **As always, any feedback, questions and constructive criticism would be most welcome.**

 **P.S. - Vincent's line _"Take it from me, Little Dougie; you're always better off with a really good lie."_ I borrowed directly from Pretty Little Liars. I think it's totally something that Vincent would say.**


	20. Be Sure Your Step

**Here we go with another chapter. As per usual, sorry with the long wait between updates, but I had a lot going on in my life at the moment that needed sorting out. That, and I wanted to do some more research to be able to accurately portray Douglas's emotional state and his feelings.**

 ** _WARNING:_ This chapter contains scenes and thoughts of a pedophilic nature. Though nothing explicit happens, unlike the last chapter, I feel it is best to give warning to those who might be disturbed or triggered by such things, and if it does, I strongly recommend you skip the italicized section beginning with the date 'July 27, 1993' and pick back up reading from where the sub-heading is '7:40 AM – American Dream Diner – Men's Bathroom'.**

* * *

 **Be Sure Your Step, Through the Heart of Madness  
**

* * *

 **August 23 – 7:02 AM - 1933 Herr Street – American Dream Diner**

In the years following his move back to Pennsylvania, Douglas had never visited the American Dream Diner, or even heard of it. But after Neil and Nina picked him up from Fazbear's Fright this morning, they insisted on stopping there for breakfast since, apparently, he wouldn't be disappointed.

Today was his first experience at the small, traditional boxcar-style diner with the stools at a bar combined with sets of booths. The booths, like the counter stools, were all aglitter in gold and deep teal sparkly vinyl and looked recently refurbished and new. He quickly loved the retro feel of the place and the atmosphere was exactly what the idea of a diner brought to mind for him; everything from the shining silver accents to the obvious regulars chatting over cups of coffee while sitting on their favorite stool. It was as if he was living in 1950s Pennsylvania, or was getting ready to hang out with the Riverdale gang at Pop Tate's Chok'lit Shoppe.

Neil, Nina and Douglas were welcomed as cheerily as sunshine by a friendly and genuine waitress with hair the colour of strawberries as they entered. There were lots of conversations and clanking dishes, and potent smells from an enormous variety of breakfast items being cooked in the kitchen. Like the name proudly stated, it was the classic American diner experience: excellent no-frills food at cheap prices.

Nina started first by ordering a veggie omelette with two slices of rye toast and orange marmalade, Neil opted for 'The Rope', which was two eggs, toast, potatoes and a half-pound serving of sausage - the 'rope' for which the breakfast was named - split down the middle, while Douglas just ordered a simple stack of blueberry pancakes.

The three of them sat at one of the corner booths tucking away into their meals, Neil and Nina more so than Douglas who just poked at his pancakes with his fork. He truly didn't have much of an appetite. How could he after what he went through this morning?

Being aggressively stalked and captured by Springtrap, realizing that he was there when his friends were murdered, recalling every detail from twenty years ago of Vincent first molesting him in the boys' bathroom at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, this morning's narrow escape, and now the anxiety at having to return to that awful place again tonight.

On top of that was the current emotional upheaval and turmoil he was experiencing from the revelations, and the dread that the monster from the past had come back to get him weighed heavily on his mind. Right now, he was on autopilot, an automaton going through the motions. Existing, but not truly living.

 ** _"_** ** _Pardon me if I'm sentimental when we say goodbye  
Don't be angry with me should I cry  
I'm a fool but I'll love you dear until the day I die  
Now and then there's a fool such as I..."_**

Rodney Crowell's easygoing voice dripped with sweet sentimentality as he sang the oldie's simple lyrics and strummed his guitar to a country beat, creating a homey, enlivening ambience for anyone entering the American Dream Diner looking to start their day anew.

Douglas cracked a half-smile at the song. His mother had loved Country and Western music for as long as he could remember; even back in Grenada where she was born, her entire family's village displayed a great love of the genre, putting on their old records as early as five in the morning. It made him feel like a farmer standing out in his fields surveying his crops, and just the melody helped him remember the past.

"Doug, you haven't touched your pancakes," came Neil's voice, derailing Douglas's train of thought. "Are they OK?" he asked.

"Huh? Um-oh, yeah," fumbled Douglas as he quickly nodded at Neil who had a piece of sausage speared on his fork. "Yeah, they're fine Neil. I'm just really out of it now... being a night guard's more intensive than I imagined."

"Mm-hmm," mumbled Nina in agreement as she swallowed a bite of her veggie omelette, "I'd go out of my mind in that place at night. Surrounded by all those props, the creepy lightning, the constant reminders of what happened to those kids... not to mention how dull and boring it must be sitting in a chair watching a monitor all night."

 _"_ _My nights have been anything but dull and boring, Nina!"_ snarked Douglas mentally, taking a long sip of his coffee. It was not Starbucks-quality, but it was hot and strong. _"I just hope to God that you never have to find out..."_

He then replied, "I have my music to listen to and that folder with the articles helps pass the time."

"How is that coming by the way?" asked Neil, sticking some egg and potato on his fork.

"It's coming along, Neil," Douglas said, "I'm at the part where those other five kids were murdered. There was lots of blood, but no bodies were found. It happened during a huge birthday party that Freddy's was hosting... just like what happened the last time in 1986."

"You know, I always wondered whatever happened to the kids' bodies," Nina thought aloud, moving her long ponytail from her left shoulder to her right, "I mean, I know it's long been rumoured that the killer stuffed them into the animatronics, and that's how they supposedly became possessed by the kids' souls. But the thing is, the animatronics were all taken apart and inspected many times and no trace of them was ever found. Weird."

"Indeed," agreed Douglas, beginning to cut into his pancakes after pouring a generous amount of syrup on them, "It would be a pretty dumb move for a killer to stash bodies in such an easy-to-check hiding place for any length of time, especially since they'd start to rot and smell real quick."

"Well, come to think of it, there were complaints over the years that the animatronics sometimes smelt like rotting corpses, and that blood and mucous would appear in their mouths and eyes," relayed Neil, pausing to take a gulp of his coffee, "But according to the maintenance logbooks, they were always opened up, cleaned and tuned up every two weeks. There was nothing but the endoskeletons and wiring inside, not even like a dead animal or something that could cause the smell."

"This keeps getting stranger and stranger," said Douglas, pursing his lips, his mind distracted from the memory of sexual abuse, "But then what caused the smell, and the blood, and the mucous?"

"I dunno," admitted Neil, "Mass hysteria caused by the power of suggestion brought on by the crazy stories of Mike, Jeremy and Fritz about killer animatronics? Maybe the tragedies surrounding the franchise made people see what they wanted to see? Or one person made up stories and everyone else ran with them without bothering to check the facts? Who knows how these things get started?"

Douglas paused. Those were very good, plausible explanations, and any other time, he would've believed them. But, following his firsthand experiences at Fazbear's Fright, and the sheer, physical horror of the nightmarish reality that roamed inside its dusky halls, Douglas knew there was more to that mystery than meets the eye.

He shoved a forkful of blueberry pancake into his mouth and chewed. The pancakes were done perfectly. Very light and fluffy. Just how he loved them.

"You know, one thing I don't understand is... is just... why?" Douglas said after he swallowed. "Why after so many horrible events that took place at those restaurants did Fazbear Entertainment continue to reopen and operate them?

"Adam Kilbride's murder, Scott Cawthon's suicide, the springlock failures that killed Miguel and Tony, those first five kids that were murdered, the Bite of 87, Jeremy and Fritz ending up in the loony bin, the second set of five murdered children, and then Mike going off the rails... Why the blasted hell did that stupid company keep resurrecting the franchise? And now Jason's trying to make it into some Frankenstein's monster with Fazbear's Fright! Just why?! "

Neil thought for a good fifteen seconds before giving his answer in a slow, solemn voice, quoting expertly from 1 Timothy 6:9-10.

 _"_ _Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs."_

Both Douglas and Nina stared with somewhat surprised looks on their faces at hearing Scripture pour from Neil's lips.

Neil made a face and shook his head.

"What? None of you went to Sunday school?"

"No, no, it's not that," started Nina, "I've never heard you speak like that before, Neil."

"Me neither," chimed in Douglas.

Neil shrugged, "Meh, benefits of a religious education. Heh, and to think, if I hadn't transferred faculties in my second year, I probably would've been an ordained deacon on my way to becoming a priest."

Douglas and Nina looked at him incredulously.

"You? A priest?" Nina said in disbelief.

Neil chuckled, "I know, right? Truth be told, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life at that point, so I just picked something random just to get away from home and be on my own. But then I discovered architecture and remembered I was always very good at technical drawing, so that's what I went and did instead."

"Fascinating how things have a way or turning out, 'Father Neil'," noted Nina with a slight tease, "Though I don't think either of us ever foresaw the day we'd work for a place like Fazbear's Fright."

"No we didn't..." murmured Neil, picking up a piece of toast.

"But going back to what you said from the Bible a second ago," said Douglas, "Are you meaning to tell me that Fazbear Entertainment was so devoted to money, a literal slave to every dollar they could earn, that they were willing to just shit on the many lives that were ruined at their restaurants? You know, to cover up and hide every wrongdoing, every death... just... sacrifice every poor soul, all so they could make a measly profit?"

He stopped and grimaced in disgust at the company that caused so much misery for so many people, "They were barely scraping by in their last years, yet they didn't know when to fold, when to put a stop to all the madness..."

He cynically reflected on Fazbear Entertainment and all he'd learned about them in the past few days. They were Mammon. An entity completely committed to profit, driven under the yoke of avarice that they would cover up anything just to stay open and make a few bucks regardless of who got hurt or killed. It was truly disgusting, their wilful blindness and indifference to the suffering they caused and helped perpetuate on others.

"Well, what can I say, Doug?" shrugged Neil, "Money makes people do crazy things. To be honest I think they started off good, you know, with good intentions, but when the body count kept rising, somewhere along the lines, their sense of right and wrong went out the door, and in the end it was all about keeping what they had and protecting their investment no matter the cost."

"Sheesh! Was Fazbear Entertainment the understudy to Umbrella Corp. or Weyland-Yutani? I don't think I'll ever understand it," frowned Douglas, shovelling more of the pancakes into his mouth.

"Hmmm... whatever the case, at least they're gone now," said Neil, calmly spreading raspberry jam on his toast.

Douglas saw the jam and his eyes widened with rising panic. The sight of its red colour triggered a split-second flashback of the silhouettes of his dead friends and his hands that were covered with blood. Their cold, sticky, red blood.

 _"_ _I-I-I'm sorry...! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

 _"_ _What did you do? What. Did. You. Do?!"_

The two voices. His distraught, crying child's voice and the grunting adult tone demanding an explanation reverberated in his skull as if inside an echo chamber, making him feel weak and stressed, but he showed no sign of it.

Douglas snapped back to reality. His palms felt sweaty and his breathing started increasing rapidly.

 _"_ _No no no! Not now!"_ he thought, panicked, trying to keep the pictures from coming again.

"Doug? Doug? Are you OK?" asked a concerned Nina, turning to look at him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're getting kinda shaky there."

"Is something wrong, buddy?"said Neil, also concerned.

Douglas shot up out of his seat before they could scrutinize him any closer. "It's nothing! It's nothing! I just have a bit of anxiety now and then," he quickly lied. "Look, will you excuse me for a sec? I need to go splash some water on my face."

"Yeah, sure," beckoned Neil to the back of the diner where the small men's bathroom was located. "You go on ahead, we'll be right here."

Douglas quickly nodded and flashed a false smile, hurrying out of the booth and leaving his worried friends behind, making a beeline for the restroom. Thankfully, it was one of those small, single-person bathrooms that could afford him some more privacy and it didn't look like any of the other patrons would come knocking right away.

Once inside, Douglas, shut the door and turned the lock and sat on the toilet lid, rocking back and forth and trying to control his hyperventilation from the shock of seeing his dead friends' bodies, lifeless and bloody and cloaked in shadows. He fought the urge to freak out and collapse into an all-out panic attack.

 _"_ _Not here! Not now!"_ he fought with himself to regain control. _"Don't let them see you like this!"_

He clamped his hands over his mouth tightly while he rocked on the seat to try to force his breathing back to normal. The bathroom was small with only a tiny window giving light, the smell of Pine-Sol still lingered in the air with no other bathroom scents overtaking it yet, and the sink countertop was a familiar black soapstone.

Douglas's heart thumped harder in his chest and nervous sweat rolled down in beads on his forehead. The sight of the black soapstone was triggering more images and feelings; ones all too similar and all too sickening like what he remembered in Springtrap's clutches.

He felt it coming.

Another repressed memory.

Another day from 1993.

Another day with Vincent.

* * *

 **July 27, 1993 – 2:00 PM – Freddy Fazbear's Pizza – The Boys' Bathroom**

 _Dougie Blackburn winced slightly when the condemning click of the bathroom's lock reverberated sharply in the claustrophobic space that was the pizzeria's boys' bathroom. Outside, 'The Fazbears' blared with joyful exuberance another verse of 'Purple People Eater' to enthralled choruses of excited children that hung on to every lyric and echoed the mechanical marvels' programmed enthusiasm._

 _The boy clenched his teeth tightly inside his mouth and looked up at the figure that approached him through the dimmed lighting. A Cheshire Cat grin gleamed its white teeth at the small six-year-old child standing beside the bathroom stalls, growing wider and making the him feel ready to be devoured._

 _"Please, Vincent... I don't want to do this again. I'm not sure if I'm ready to be a big boy yet," Dougie protested softly._

 _"Sssshhhhh... sweet Little Dougie," cooed Vincent DiCarlo in a soothing response, now standing in front of the short child. "You did so well with me yesterday that you'll be a big boy in no time."_

 _The thirty-nine-year-old crouched down in front of Dougie, gently putting a soft hand on the lad's cheek and turning his head to face him so that the two made eye contact. In the dimness, Dougie could make out Vincent's dark brown ponytail slung over his shoulder and saw that the man's intense blue eyes were locked with his brown ones._

 _"Freddy and I chose you because you are something special, kid. Don't you want to be a big boy before all of your friends? Didn't you like all the tokens I gave you to play all those games? What's the matter, Little Dougie? You don't like the free food and toys I've been giving you? You weren't happy to meet Freddy one on one?" asked Vincent, feigning hurt feelings. It always amazed him the changes a certain tone or inflection could bring about in a child when spoken by an adult. This was going to be a piece of cake._

 _Now Dougie felt bad. He hurt Vincent's feelings after all he'd done for him. He was a grown-up and a grown-up would never steer him wrong._

 _"I do love everything you've given me, and it has made me feel special, but do we have to do what we did here yesterday again? And why can't I tell my mummy and daddy? Or my friends?" he asked in a low voice._

 _A glint of anger momentarily flashed in Vincent's eyes, barely perceptible to such a small child, but subtle enough to convey that he was getting a little annoyed from the resistance the minor was putting up._

 _He stood up to his full height and addressed the youth._

 _"Because that's what all little boys who want to become big boys have to do. But until I say you are a big boy, it must stay between you and me... unless you want to remain a baby forever. Do you want to stay a poor little baby for the rest of your life?" mocked Vincent as he crossed his arms and looked down at the brown-skinned boy._

 _Wracked with guilt at having hurt his friend and not wanting to be a baby forever, Dougie cast his eyes and head downwards to the black and white tiled floor, a single tear running down his cheek. He could hear that Captain Foxy was now singing "Drunken Sailor" at the Pirate's Cove with his kiddie crew following along in song and dance. "No... I don't want to be a baby. I... I want to be a big boy, Vincent."_

 _Vincent smirked and swept his ponytail back off his shoulder with one hand and used the other to pat Dougie on the top of his mop of dark brown hair._

 _The boy was all his now again._

 _"Atta boy, Little Dougie. I knew you would understand. Now let's get started before anyone notices we're missing. We can't have anyone discovering the secret now, can we?"_

 _With one swift motion and little effort, Vincent lifted Dougie up off of the floor and rested him onto the sink's countertop; just like the last time._

 _Dougie felt the cool soapstone countertop through his khaki shorts and fidgeted uncomfortably when Vincent began to slowly run one of his strong but soft hands up under his orange shirt and over his little stomach. "But why don't I feel happier about this, Vincent? Why do I only feel bad?" he queried to the purple-shirted security guard who seemed to be getting lost in his own world._

 _"Well, things have to get worse before they can get better, Little Dougie," came the nonchalant reply, "You just need some more time, that's all. You'll get used to this real soon... You'll see." purred Vincent as he now started to lift Dougie's T-shirt up and over his head. "Your skin is so smooth..."_

 _"I-I-I hope so, Vincent," stumbled Dougie as Vincent now had both hands rubbing over his exposed chest and back. "I... I trust you."_

* * *

 **7:40 AM – American Dream Diner – Men's Bathroom**

"No... no... no..." whimpered Douglas tearfully, clutching his head as the world spun round and round and his stomach churned.

In those seconds, he was back in that God-forsaken pizzeria's bathroom, an innocent, defenceless child being disgustingly manipulated and sexually abused by a sick, evil predator for his special "playtime". The humiliation, the shame, the shock and numbness, the terrible feeling of loss of control, that his body was no longer his own, it all came back to him with crystal clarity and the devastation of a roaring tsunami.

The memories of this new incident, combined with the one the day prior, only made him feel worse and worse inside, and everything was falling like a giant house of cards. His stomach heaved and its contents forced itself way up his throat, forcing him to hurl everything he'd consumed minutes prior into the toilet bowl. There was not much, but his stomach kept heaving and heaving, while he gagged and coughed up every chunk of vomit until only bitter yellow bile oozed over his tongue.

When there was nothing more left to evacuate his stomach, Douglas flushed the toilet and stood to turn on the sink tap. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to wash the sickening memory right out of his head. It didn't work much, but it put him at ease just a little.

"Come on, Douglas," he told his reflection with its bloodshot eyes, "Just hold it together a little while longer. Let me get through this breakfast with Neil and Nina..."

He looked at the bathroom door and then at his watch, he'd been inside for just over five minutes and the two were sure to be wondering where he was.

"They can't know... I-I-I just can't tell them this. No... I can't!" he then said quietly, taking a few deep breaths and then slowly exiting the restroom, drying his face and hands with a couple paper towels.

As he re-entered the dining area, Douglas was surprised to see the tall, stocky shape of Peter McNamee standing beside the booth conversing with Neil and Nina.

"Hey Peter," greeted Douglas with a cough, "How're you? Didn't expect to see you here."

Peter turned his broad, footballer frame and gave a smile. "Heh heh, I could say the same to you, bro," he chuckled, giving Douglas a brofist before asking, "What brings you here?"

"Neil and Nina invited me to breakfast," said Douglas, "First time here too. And you?"

"Just getting some eats for me and Jason," he explained, scratching his crew cut. "We had one hell of a party last night!"

 _"_ _I had one hell of a party last night too..."_ quipped Douglas internally, _"Too bad it was more like a party from hell!"_

"Anywho, Jason's favourite is the Annie's Dream Special. Mine too. So I ordered two to go," Peter added some more.

Douglas glanced at a posted-up menu to see what the special entailed – it was a three large egg omelette with ham, onions, green peppers, cheese with homefries inside, served with toast and jelly. It sounded delicious.

"My night was pretty uneventful," lied Douglas, sitting back down to his plate of pancakes and taking a sip of his now-lukewarm coffee. "When I get home I'm gonna hit the sack. Hard."

"Hey man, what's up with your eyes?" Peter asked, pointing, "Why are they so red?"

The others turned to look at him.

 _"_ _Dammit Peter!"_ fumed Douglas inside before quickly saying, "Um, it's nothing. I was just splashing some water on my face and I guess there was some soap residue somewhere that got in my eyes. It's no biggie."

"Oh OK," shrugged Peter before addressing Neil, "So Neil, you guys ready for your radio interview with Jim Johnson this morning?"

"Uh-huh," affirmed Neil, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "We're scheduled to go on air at 9, so we're going to leave here in the next twenty or so minutes."

"Oh, I didn't know you were going on Jim Johnson's talk show," said Douglas with mild surprise. "I'd imagine you'd be promoting the opening of Fazbear's Fright, correct?"

"You'd be thinking right, Doug," affirmed Nina, breaking off a piece of her rye toast, "The attraction opens up next week, so between now and opening night Neil and I will just be doing a bunch of guest spots on a few radio shows. Jason's also asked me to type up and submit an article to all the newspapers in the state. He wants this thing to be huge."

"Yeah bro," chimed in Peter, "Jason's even paid a contact of his to have a segment done about the grand opening on ABC27."

"Really now?" said Douglas with curiosity.

"Totally, Dougie man," Peter grinned, tilting his head cockily. "Alan Aguilar's doing the segment."

"The most trusted name in Penn State news," remarked Douglas, "Not bad. Not bad at all."

"Well, it definitely helps to be the son of a billionaire oil executive," shrugged Peter with a smirk.

At that Douglas quipped ironically, "It sure does." and then he remembered how badly the meeting with Felix Simpson's son went yesterday and deadpanned, "It. Sure. Does."

"Yo Doug, would you like a drop home? My order's gonna be ready in a bit and I'm gonna roll back to Jason's; I don't mind giving a ride to where you live if it's on the way," Peter suddenly offered, checking his phone and then looking back up at the multiracial man.

"Mmm – sure Peter. That sounds fine, I really need some sleep," Douglas replied, feigning a yawn, just wanting to be on his own right now. "Would you be OK with that, Neil? Nina?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Neil replied. "It'll give us some more time to prepare for the interview."

"You're going to finish your pancakes though, Doug?" asked Nina, pointing at Douglas's still nearly full plate.

Douglas looked at the syrup-laden pancakes, blinked, and then said, "Sure. Why not? Those pancakes _are_ delicious."

* * *

 **8:27 AM – Capitol Heights, Harrisburg – River Plaza, Apartment #I3**

Douglas trudged through his apartment door with all the gusto of a recently risen zombie, dead inside, lost in a daze, and utterly torn apart.

Everything that transpired in the last twenty-four hours had laid waste to the young man and ravaged his psyche. He felt like the smoldering ruins of a once-great castle, destroyed and pillaged by invaders until there was nothing left but crumbled stone and scattered ashes; haunting reminders of a past that once was.

Gone now. Nothing but memories.

Douglas slowly removed his jacket and set it down on his dad's red armchair, pausing to look around at the living room as if expecting his parents to come out and comfort him, hold him, and tell him it would be all right and that they were here for him.

Nobody. He was all alone.

He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, kicked his black shoes off and walked over to the fridge for a glass of cold water. His throat felt dry.

Douglas tried not to blink as he downed the glass, whenever he did, the images kept coming back, and with it the terrible feelings from twenty years ago.

 _"_ _I was molested..."_ he said inside, _"Vincent touched me when I was a child. I was only six-years-old..."_

Then he thought about Barry Driscoll, Vincent DiCarlo's co-worker and accomplice, _"That man... the phone guy on those recorded training tapes. He knew about what Vincent was going to do, and he didn't try to stop him or call the police. Why? What did Vincent have to give him? Money? Drugs? Some kind of bribe? Did Barry Driscoll molest me too?!"_

Before he could dwell on any of those questions any further, he turned around and jumped, nearly dropping the glass in fright, and gasping at the unexpected guest in his living room.

It was a large, bulky shape made of opaque shadows, sitting plaintively on his sofa as if it always belonged there, like some child's giant stuffed animal or a big cushion arranged for decoration. The shape was that of a bear's, more specifically a dark model of Freddy Fazbear that also carried the trademark top hat, bow tie and microphone. The shadow Freddy's eyes and teeth were bright white and glowed eerily in contrast to its blackened body, Douglas also noticed that the morning sun filtering through the windows did nothing to dissipate its shadowy mass; instead, it only served to highlight that the dark, ghostly body was, in fact, tinged purple; a purple so deep that it was black. To top it all off, the burning white eyes of the mysterious bear were staring right into his own.

Staring back at the mysterious being, Douglas suddenly felt his head start to throb quickly and become overwhelmed by dizziness. He collapsed to his knees, the glass falling out of his hands and softly landing and wetting the carpet as he clutched his head.

"YAAARRRGGGHHHH!" cried out Douglas shaking his head from the sensations which he knew were no doubt caused by the apparition. "STOP IT! ENOUGH!"

Then it was all gone. No more strange sensations.

Douglas looked up.

And no more Shadow Freddy it seemed.

Panting slowly, Douglas rose to his feet with the glass in hand and set it down in the kitchen sink, and then rubbed his tired, achy head.

 _"_ _That thing..."_ the beleaguered man wondered, " _It's just like that other thing I saw last night. That shadow Bonnie..."_

He stopped and looked at the couch as if expecting Shadow Freddy or Shadow Bonnie to appear on it again.

Nothing.

"Shadow Bonnie and Shadow Freddy..." he murmured before raising his voice, "Great! On top of everything else, I'm being haunted in my own home! Just motherfucking great!"

With a sigh, Douglas ambled away over to his bedroom, where he undressed to take a long hot shower. He really felt like he needed to wash his troubles and traumas down the drain, at least for this morning.

As he was in his bathroom, he flicked on the fluorescent light and stopped in front of his mirror when he saw his reflection. He looked aged, tired and tormented, his eyes were bloodshot and his hair was greasy. Douglas frowned, breathed hard and opened his mirror cabinet for some refreshing eye drops. When he closed the mirror, he nearly screamed when he saw the familiar gleaming white eyes and teeth of Shadow Bonnie standing behind him looking right into his reflection's eyes.

Douglas spun around quick as lightning only to see the green and white tiled wall. He looked back at the mirror and saw nothing but his scared reflection as well. No more Shadow Bonnie!

Angry, Douglas shouted at the now-invisible entities in his apartment, "For fuck's sake! Will you all just stop scaring me and leave me the fuck alone! Jesus Christ! I've had enough of this bullshit! If you have something to say to me, now's the goddamned time!"

No answer. Not even a flickering light indicating a willingness to open conversation.

The man glared daggers at the mirror and at the direction of the living room, and then with a flounce stepped into his shower and turned on both taps to full blast.

When he finished adjusting the temperature to a comforting warmness, he stopped and stood there letting the drops of water cascade down his body, trying to wash away the filth and defilement he was feeling. Then he picked up his shower puff, squirted a generous amount of a shower gel onto it and began to scrub his body all over.

Faster and faster he went, scrubbing harder with each second, trying to get rid of that awful feeling of dirtiness he felt inside and outside. But he knew that no amount of scrubbing, no matter how raw he rubbed his skin, he was tainted. Stained by evil.

In just a few hours, mere specks of dust in the halls of time, Douglas's whole life fell completely to pieces. He'd often heard and read stories about victims of child sexual abuse, from television shows, books or online articles, and always felt nothing but pity and sadness for the people that endured such horrific treatment. But never in a million years did he ever think he would be one of those people. A victim.

Those two memories of what Vincent did played in his mind again and again like a tape in a VCR; he was traumatized and suffering the anguish.

He felt many things all at once.

He felt used.

He felt degraded.

He felt ashamed

He felt repulsed by himself.

He felt powerless.

He felt terrible about allowing it to happen again.

He felt invaded.

Douglas shuddered as he slowly slumped down to the shower floor and hugged himself. No matter how much he washed himself, he could still feel Vincent's hands and mouth moving over his skin, when he shut his eyes, he saw Vincent's face with those blue eyes looking over his body with perverted lust, and whenever he swallowed, he could still experience Vincent's lips and tongue in his mouth and the taste of his breath.

Douglas felt his eyes going puffy. He sniffed and the air with the spraying warm water burned his nose. He could not hold it back any further. For the first time in years since the funeral where he buried his parents in their homeland of Grenada, Douglas cried.

He wept not only for the loss of his childhood, but also for the loss of his five friends, snatched away by the curse of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Young lives snipped so short for no apparent reason, young lives that all held so much potential and so much promise.

Stolen from them. From everyone. Stolen lives.

Yet Douglas, deep down inside, felt responsible for their deaths. The mirror was beginning to crack even further, and very soon it was going to shatter and expose the terrible, grisly truth, piece by lethal piece.

He rocked on the ground back and forth repeating the same elusive question he had since this morning.

"What did I do? What did I do? _What. Did. I. Do?!"_

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **Poor Douglas... his whole life has fallen apart in just a few hours and it seems there's more to come with no end in sight, and things are only going to get worse for him.**

 **I did a good bit of research for this chapter in getting to understand what people who've been sexually abused are likely to think and go through. Some of Douglas's thoughts are taken verbatim from actual survivor accounts.**

 **It will be interesting to see how our protagonist handles the next night at Fazbear's Fright now that he knows what he knows. It's gonna be pretty intense, I will say that much, and there will be more revelations along the way.**

 **Shadow Freddy makes his first appearance in the story with Shadow Bonnie making an encore performance, and both are now haunting Douglas's apartment. They don't seem to be malevolent towards Douglas, more like annoying to him because they're not giving any answers as to why they're there. I will say there is a reason why they're appearing to Douglas and you will find out more about them in a later chapter.**

 **And the next chapter for sure will finally formally introduce Douglas's murdered five friends (Amber, Jamie, Yoni, Nicky and Jeff) and characters. We will learn more about their friendship with Dougie and maybe even get some hints as to why Vincent killed them.**

 **Anyway, as always, any feedback and questions would be most welcome.**


	21. Blood, Mucous and Five Friends

**DEEPEST apologies for the long delay, but I had some technical difficulties in that my laptop went kaput and the motherboard and charger port both went at the same time, so I now have to get a new laptop. However, I was able to transfer the old data onto my family's desktop and I worked from there, but it took a good while to get back the motivation to write again, but I pushed on and now here we are.**

 **I want to give a big shoutout to Antoine, a fellow Springtrap horror story writer who has written amazing story called "A Springtime Interview". He's a really nice guy, a talented writer who has done a very chilling portrayal of Springtrap/Vincent (Purple Guy), and has been leaving excellent reviews for each of my chapters. So, it would really mean a lot to him and me if you could check out his story and maybe fave it and leave feedback as well. Trust me, he deserves it. :-)**

 **Anyway, in this chapter, we finally get to meet Dougie's five friends and we get hints of why Vincent killed them later on.**

 ** _WARNING:_ This chapter contains scenes and thoughts of a pedophilic nature. Though nothing explicit happens, I feel it is best to give warning to those who might be disturbed or triggered by such things, and if it does, I strongly recommend you skip this chapter.**

* * *

 **Blood, Mucous and Five Friends**

* * *

 **July 28, 1993 – 11:05 AM – Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

"Mom! Kylie's hogging the Cracker Jack!"

"Pizza's here! Dig in everyone!"

"Marla, which prize should I get? The Bonnie plush or the pink Chica shirt?"

"I want ice cream!"

"Race you to the ball pit! Last one's a rotten egg!"

"Do what you want, 'cause a pirate is free! You are a pirate!"

"Ugh! Shut up, John! You've been singing that song nonstop!"

"Well, it's my favourite!"

 _It was yet another ordinary day at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza._

 _None of the excitement and chatter that filled the artificial fantasy land could pull Dougie Blackburn's attention away from his deep, distracted thoughts. Not today. Not now._

 _The child, who always happily participated in the fun, games and joyous adventuring, sat dispiritedly at a table adjacent to the stage where Freddy, Bonnie and Chica stood quietly, until the next show began. An idling blink, a nod or a turn of their bodies indicated that they were still keeping watch over the youngsters playing within their realm._

 _But that didn't matter to Dougie. Not even Freddy, his favourite, mattered to him today. Nothing but what happened to him did._

 _"_ _You look so beautiful... I'm going to make you feel good."_

 _Vincent's soft words reverberated hauntingly in Dougie's mind, making him grimace at the memories of the previous two days._

 _"_ _Oh Little Dougie... I want you. Oh... I need you so much!"_

 _Dougie winced, doing so because he remembered with perfect clarity what happened next. He became that lifeless doll stuffed with cotton._

 _His skin tingled all over with goose pimples as those special 'playtimes' with Vincent came back to him with frightening lucidity; a swaddling shadow enveloping him like a black blanket; an inescapable spider web._

 _He heard Vincent's gasping, his dirty moaning and determined grunting in his ears. He felt the man's body against his own, squeezing him against his chest. He relived the sensation of Vincent grinding his loins with the hardness in his groin between his legs, completely wrapped up in his own pleasure, and in his highs not noticing the distress he was causing his 'special friend'._

 _The experience hurt and confused Dougie. If it was to make him a big boy quickly, then why did it have to be this way? Why was he only feeling bad and disgusted with himself, like he wanted to shrivel up and die like a dried-up plant? What was wrong with him?_

 _And it did not stop there either. There were the nightmares he had when he went to sleep. Only he was not in the bathroom with Vincent._

 _No._

 _Vincent was right there in the bed with him._

 _He would be straddling him, holding him down, touching him, kissing him, and doing all the same things over and over again, whispering those unsettling words while he did his deeds._

 _"_ _I could never hurt you, Little Dougie. I want to make you feel good."_

 _The boy cringed as his skin crawled from the nightmares and he hung his head like a dying flower, ashamed to look at anyone else in the pizzeria. He only focused on the thick pizza crust he was slowly picking away at bit by bit, feeling as if the crumbs were like the pieces of his life right now._

 _Lost forever to the rest and never to be rejoined again._

 _Irreparable._

 _Dougie sighed and took a sip of his grape soda. His parents had noticed his change in demeanour, but, remembering Vincent's words about the need to keep the big boy secret, he lied and said he was just worn out from a day of playing and that he just missed his friends who'd been sick for the whole week. It worked and nothing was asked about it again._

 _He drummed his fingers on the tablecloth in a dull, slow tattoo, trying to put the past behind him and focus on the future ahead. He was going to be a big boy soon, and he was Freddy's new special friend, surely he could be happy about that?_

 _Couldn't he?_

 _Dougie blinked, and as soon as he did he stiffened. He could hear music in the room._

 _It was not the typical tunes and light-hearted melodies that played in the pizzeria. No, this was something very different and very familiar. It was the slow, sweeping pings of a music box, slightly aged and tinny-sounding as it strummed out its song._

"What's that music?" _said Dougie, looking up and scanning the room,_ "Where's it coming from? I've heard it before..."

 _Then he realized it was coming from his left, in the direction of the stage with the animals. He looked over and his mouth opened in surprise when he saw Freddy. The animatronic bear's face was illuminated glitteringly by a strobe light from inside his head that made his eyes and mouth flicker like a bad light bulb. The music box jingle was coming directly from him._

"Freddy?" _squeaked Douglas, glancing around to see if anyone else was hearing the music, but strangely no one else appeared to. Was he the only one that could see and hear what was going on?_

 _Dougie slid off his stool and slowly walked towards the stage with Freddy's flashing face beckoning him closer still and the song growing louder in his ears._

 _"_ _I remember that song now,"_ _he thought while his red and white Converse shoes lightly tapped on the tiled floor,_ _"Freddy plays that song when it's time for the restaurant to close and him to go to bed. I think the grown-ups called it the "Toreador March". But why's he playing it now? It's not his bedtime."_

 _Dougie reached the stage and easily stepped up onto it. It was just no more than a foot from the ground, since it had to be easy for the big animatronics to come down for the kids to hug them from time to time. Now he stood right in front of the seven-foot brown bear, which towered over him like a California Redwood, and felt intimidated._

"Freddy?" _he spoke again,_ "What's wrong? Why are you playing that song? Do you want to tell me something?"

 _At that, the song ground to a halt and Freddy was quiet; even the lights in his head stopped blinking. Dougie looked up at Freddy's smiling face, then at Bonnie, then at Chica, searching for a response from either of them. He craned his neck to face the Pirate's Cove to see if maybe Foxy had something to say, but the red-furred terror of the seas hadn't even poked his head from behind his purple curtain._

 _Even stranger was how all the other patrons of the pizzeria were going about their business as usual. No one looked up in his direction or even noticed the strange scene that was playing out. Dougie and the animatronics were invisible to them._

"What's going on?" _said Dougie as he turned back to Freddy. When he did he gasped in shock._

 _Freddy was looking straight down at him._

 _The ursine's glass eyes were locked with his. They were **so** blue; Dougie could feel them boring into him. But they were a different blue than the soft, friendly shade everyone was accustomed to, this time they were a serious blue, the blue of an unforgiving ocean; the blue of a hot cutting torch._

 _Dougie took a step back and saw that Bonnie and Chica were also looking down at him with solemn stares of ruby and amethyst._

"W-what?" _stuttered Dougie, shivering nervously when he felt a sensation of prickly coldness in the air._

 _He looked behind him. The rest of the crowd played on; happily blind._

 _"_ _GET AWAY…"_

 _Dougie spun around when he heard a whispery voice slither into his ears, and he gasped when he saw Freddy's large mouth move up and down in speech._

 _"_ _GET AWAY…"_ _repeated Freddy_ , _"YOU HAVE TO GET AWAY…"_

 _"_ _BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE…"_ _came another similar voice._

 _Dougie saw Bonnie's jaw moving as well, directing his words at the small child._

"B-Bonnie?" _trembled Dougie, his eyes wide with fear._

 _"_ _BEFORE IT HAPPENS AGAIN…"_ _added another voice, noticeably feminine in tone this time._

 _The boy looked at the other yellow animatronic on stage and noticed Chica speaking as well._

"Chica?" _said Dougie, taking another step back, afraid,_ "Before what happens again? Why do I have to get away?"

 _"_ _YOU ARE NOT SAFE…"_ _warned Freddy, his words fading in the air like a smoke-ring. Dougie looked at his face again._

 _Slowly, very slowly, Freddy's eyes rolled upwards in his sockets until the blue irises and the white sclera disappeared and there was only blackness remaining. Dougie drew in a sharp breath when two glowing white dots appeared in the inky depths like distant stars; both Bonnie and Chica's eyes had also turned dark with two white dots replacing their pupils._

 _Dougie suddenly could not move. He could not run. His entire body felt as if some strong, invisible force, like a giant hand, was holding him in place and preventing him from running away._

"H-help! Help!" _cried Dougie, scared for his life,_ "Somebody help me!"

 _He turned his head back to see that everything was business as usual in the pizzeria and he was still invisible to all, but what was more surprising was that Foxy was standing outside of Pirate's Cove's curtain, his eyes also completely black with two white specks floating in the center._

 _Foxy's mouth with his gold canines flapped slowly up and down with a message of his own._

 _"_ _HE WILL KILL THEM…"_ _he hissed in low, wheezy tones._ _"HE WILL KILL THEM ALL…"_

"Wha-what are you s –" _stumbled Dougie, stopping as he felt something cold and wet drip onto his head. He turned back and looked up at Freddy once more, only to feel the same liquid fall on his cheek. He wiped it off, while observing the speaking bear, noticing a trail of dark, viscous fluid running from the corner of his right eye socket. Then he saw his fingers, and for a moment he shrieked with helpless panic._

 _It was cold, gloppy and reddish-brown._

 _His fingers were splotched with blood and mucous._

 _Dougie still could not move. The invisible hand continued to hold him right where he was, forcing him to listen and bear witness to the horrifying sight. He could not speak, only whimper and make pathetic cries as more of the disgusting liquid dripped down from Freddy's eyes, rolling off his cheeks like teardrops, and pit-pattering onto Dougie's face and staining the cotton of his red T-shirt, freaking him out even more. The same fluid suddenly began to flow from Freddy's open mouth, trickling between the spaces of his white teeth._

 _It, too, also fell on Dougie._

"No... no... Stop it!" _he begged Freddy and the others, who were also crying and regurgitating bloody mucous._ "Please stop it, Freddy!"

 _There came this horrible smell emanating from Freddy's mouth and the rest of his body, it reminded Dougie of the time he'd walked by some roadkill on the way to the park with his parents and how it smelled to high heaven. Now that same smell, a hundred times worse, was right up in his face._

 _Freddy then slowly leaned over the panicky child, bending down and bringing his eyeless, stained face close up to his. Dougie felt like he was going to vomit._

 _"_ _YOU ARE IN GREAT DANGER..."_ _agonized Freddy, the white dots in his empty sockets drilling into the very fiber of Dougie's being as he moved closer still to the frightened child._ _"HE WILL NOT STOP..."_

 _Before Dougie could reply, Freddy's brown fur abruptly changed colour. This time he was a drab shade of yellow; golden, to be precise. This new incarnation of Freddy seemed oddly familiar to Dougie._

 _"_ _HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU!"_ _rumbled the golden Freddy in a low ominous voice._

 _A great pang gripped his heart. Dougie let out a choked sob and he shivered fearfully. It was all he could do in response to the ominous threat to his life._

 _The animatronics all started up again with their frightening omens._

 _YOU HAVE TO GET AWAY!_

 _BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!_

 _BEFORE IT HAPPENS AGAIN!_

 _HE WILL KILL THEM ALL!_

 _YOU ARE IN GREAT DANGER!_

 _HE WILL NOT STOP!_

 _HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU!_

 _Dougie grabbed his head with his hands and covered his ears, his legs wobbling as if made of jelly, but the unseen force still had him in its grip and he could not get away._

"Please! Stop it! Stop it, Freddy!" _he yelled with great distress as the animatronics' words swirled madly in his head. The voices whined and shrilled in his ears, boring deep into his brain like a merciless dentist's drill, making sure that their messages would permanently stick._

 _The invisible hand gripping him then forced his head upwards, making him look at the Golden Freddy's face which then flickered back to the regular Freddy Fazbear's._

 _"_ _YOU HAVE TO GET AWAY!"_ _the bear warned yet again, and then the bloody mucous began gushing from his empty eyes and open mouth, splashing onto the little boy's face and shirt, covering the rest of his clothes and painting him reddish-brown._

 _Dougie screamed._

 _He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed, wanting to rip his ears and legs off; anything to get away from the scary words and the terrifying animatronics; anything to escape this campaign of unbridled ferocity; anything to escape this life._

 _He screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and –_

 _"_ _DOUGIE! DOUGIE! DOUGIEEEEE!"_

 _Voices._

 _New voices._

 _The brown boy's eyes shot open with intensity and he saw darkness, but felt something hard and smooth against his head and arms._

 _A table surface._

 _He bolted upright as quick as lightning, and to his utter shock and surprise, saw that he was seated back at the table where he was before the animals started speaking to him. Dougie rubbed his face and looked at his hands and his clothes._

 _All clean. No bloody mucous._

 _He shot a glance at the stage and saw that Freddy and the rest of 'The Fazbears' were right there as always, looking straight ahead and frozen in their usual poses. No black eyes with glowing with dots, no bloody tears and vomit, no creepy voices, no Golden Freddy._

"Wa-wa-was I dreaming?" _he whispered to himself, shivering from a great sense of uneasiness,_ "But it felt so real. Why would Freddy and the others tell me those things?"

 _"_ _DOUGIE! OVER HERE, DOUGIE!"_

 _Dougie perked his head up and turned around in his seat at the voices calling out his name excitedly. There were five in total, and he knew them._

 _"_ _Could they be? Are they..."_ _thought Dougie, happiness rising within._

 _And then he saw them. All five of them._

 _His best friends: Amber, Jamie, Yoni, Nicky and Jeff._

"Hey!" _waved Dougie ecstatically at the quintet of kids,_ "You're here! You're all back!"

 _Dougie scrambled off his chair with the biggest smile on his face, and ran over to where they were standing. They all looked so happy and healthy, and fully recovered from the nasty flu that kept them sick at home for the past week._

"It's great that you're here!" _said Dougie gleefully, thinking of new and exciting games to play with his buddies._ "Are you all better now?"

"Uh-huh!" _spoke Amber Likens with two nods of her head._ "I'm so glad I don't have to take that yucky medicine anymore!"

 _Dougie noticed she looked really nice today in a pink and white checkered tunic sundress and pink flats on her feet that complimented her cream and wild rose complexion. Her straight sun-blonde hair fell nearly down to her waist, was combed back and held in place with a white bandeau; her six-year-old blue-green eyes blinked enthusiastically at her friend. Dougie blushed ever so slightly at her._

"Yeah, my mommy gave me yummy chicken soup every day and lots of orange juice. It was really good!" _replied Jeffrey Carter. Dougie looked at his shining black face, proud and brave, happy to be healthy._

"Same here," _spoke up Nicholas Thorne, scratching his short dirty blond hair,_ "But I did lots of colouring in bed all day and watched my _Fredbear & Friends_ videos."

"My abba made my favourite _salat ḥatzilim_ and gave me double chocolate mashuga nuts every day," _said Yonatan Kletzky, the Jewish, Moroccan-Israeli descended boy, closest in complexion to Dougie._ "Ima made me drink onion and honey all the time, but it was fine," _he added, adjusting his small, pinned-on black satin kippah._

"Well, I had it the best!" _proudly announced James Morcombe, puffing out his chest in his dark purple shirt,_ "I played _Star Fox_ and _Super Mario All-Stars_ on my room's big TV, Rosita the maid brought me sundaes and chocolate chip cookies whenever I wanted, and mom and dad got me new toys every day!"

 _Everyone gave a collective, but good-natured eye roll at the spiky-haired redhead. It was no secret that Jamie's family had money and he was proud to show off about it from time to time. It came with being the only child of a hotshot lawyer dad and an in-demand interior designer mom._

"What have you been up to while we were sick, Dougie?" _inquired Yoni, looking at his friend with his dark eyes._

"Well, I was kinda lonely here all by myself at first," _admitted Dougie, glancing down at his white shorts momentarily before looking back up._ "But then I made a great new friend and we had lots of fun playing together! He gave me lots of free food, and sweets, and Faz Tokens, and I got to meet Freddy Fazbear all by myself! I'm his special friend!"

 _The others were surprised at what Dougie was saying and began peppering him with questions, eager to hear more about this great new friend of his. Only Jamie was a bit more cynical since he was not the one doing the bragging._

"Who is this new friend? Is he some fat, stupid, purple dinosaur from your imagination?" _he mocked._

"Don't be mean, Jamie!" _scolded Amber._

"Yeah," _agreed Nicky who added,_ "I like Barney."

"Me too!" _concurred Yoni._

"Me three!" _chimed in Jeff._

 _Jamie sneered._ "Whatever. I'm a big kid and Barney is dumb because I say so!"

 _The seven-year-old brazenly stuck his tongue out at the others to which they snapped back that he was the dumb one._

 _Dougie opened his mouth to say that he was soon going to be a bigger boy than Jamie, but remembering his promise to Vincent and Freddy, he bit his lip and instead reiterated what he said before._

"My new friend is real!" _he protested._ "We played together all week and he took me to meet Freddy backstage, and he's been giving me toys and candy, and he really likes me a lot."

"Well then," _started Jamie, folding his arms challengingly,_ "What's his name?"

"His name is Vincent," _replied Dougie confidently, also folding his arms with a pleased smile,_ "He's a grown-up and he works here. He's best friends with Freddy, too!"

 _The five children all looked at him with expressions of surprise and disbelief._

"You? Friends with a grown-up?" _said Jeff._

"How can you be friends with a grown-up?" _Amber asked with a puzzled look on her face._

"I was trying to talk to Freddy one day and he came up to me and we started talking," _answered Dougie._ "Vincent's so nice. He got me chocolate ice cream and we watched Foxy together."

"He sounds kinda cool," _declared Yoni with a little smile, especially at the prospect of free ice cream._

"He sounds weird," _snorted Jamie,_ "A grown-up would never want to be friends with a kid."

"Well, he wanted to be friends with me. So there!" _pushed back Dougie._

"You never know, Jamie," _spoke up Nicky._ "I think Dougie's telling the truth."

"Where is he then?" _asked Jamie again, tilting his head to the side,_ "I wanna meet Vincent."

"He said he had to do something first," _said Dougie, scratching his nose,_ "But he's going to come back real soon. He gave me that pizza and soda over there."

 _Dougie motioned with his head over to the table he was sitting at in front of the stage._

"OK. We'll wait for him, Dougie," _said Amber._

"We will?" _said Jamie disbelievingly, hesitant to follow the others to the table._

"Yes, we will," _defended Amber, walking past him._

"Fine," _Jamie grumbled, following behind._

 _As they sat down at the table, Dougie furtively cast a look at the trio of animatronics, nervously looking for any sign of the blood and mucous leaking from their eyes and mouths._

 _Nothing._

 _Freddy, Bonnie and Chica were still as statues._

 _He blinked and shook it off, figuring he would tell Vincent about it when he came._

 _He would know what to do._

* * *

 **11:23 AM – Security Office**

"Barry, have you taken care of our 'little problem' yet?" _inquired Vincent DiCarlo to Barry Driscoll as he leaned against the right hallway's door frame._

 _Barry turned his fat, double-chinned head to his superior._

"Oh, uh, yes, Vincent. It's been handled. There's really nothing to worry about," _he confirmed in his nasally Midwestern accent,_ "Our 'friends' up on the stage made quite the mess this time in the backroom. But the property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced."

 _Vincent smirked and gave a soft, eerie chuckle._

"Who was it this time?" _he queried, looking at the small office table filled with Barry's clutter._

"Another college student. Uh, Mark, I think was his name," _said Barry, leaning back in his chair and making it creak under his weight._

"Ha! Those little brats always think those night guards are me," _Vincent said without one drop of remorse in his voice._

"It was clever how you reworked their A.I. to make them see you instead of the night guards, Vincent. Though it keeps on costing us new animatronic suits all the time… and new carpeting… and lots of cleaning supplies…" _remarked Barry wryly, taking a swig of Cherry Pepsi._

"Well, better them than me," _smiled Vincent creepily and then adding,_ "And it worked so well at the previous location. While I didn't expect them to be moving the Toy animatronics as well as their original bodies, they deserve to be kept in the cycle of knowing they kill the wrong person every time. They deserve it for making me lose Timmy."

"It's a shame what you had to do back in '87," _remembered Barry somewhat wistfully,_ "But how is this new kid coming along? This… uh, Dougie…?"

"Oh he's a treasure," _purred Vincent, a self-indulgent smile curling his lips._ "Little Dougie's coming along nicely with me. I love feeling him, holding him, and kissing him… He doesn't give nearly as much trouble as Adam or Timmy did, and I think he'll soon be ready."

 _Barry only nodded and took another gulp of his soda._

 _Vincent spoke again, drifting off into his twisted fantasies._

"You know, Barry… There is nothing in this whole world more beautiful than a grown man and a little boy who love and care for each other. I love seeing good fathers who love and are devoted to their sons, I love seeing a man publicly show affection for a little boy, even more a man showing respect for a little boy, taking him seriously as a person - when I see that I think: _'Hmm, he could be just like me.'_ "

 _Vincent blinked and realized by the tightness in the front of his pants that he was aroused. It was time to play another game._

"Little Dougie should be finished eating by now," _he said, hoping his arousal would not show,_ "I'm going to see him; I have a new game for us to play."

"OK. I'm sure you have everything under control, Vincent," _said Barry._ "Uh, talk to you soon!"

"Later," _came the reply._

 _By now Vincent knew that outside the late morning would be sunny and beautifully calm. He smiled, for it made him dream of things to come._

 _"_ _Pretty soon I'll be waking up to mornings like this with you, Little Dougie,"_ _Vincent hummed lustily to himself._ _"You'll be right there with me… not some old pillow."_

 _Little Dougie was so warm and young and defenseless; it pleased the man greatly to imagine the boy taking the pillow's place one day._

 _Vincent's body grew warmer from the desires of his flesh for the little one in the dining area up ahead. More games, more special playtimes and then he would be his completely - heart, body and soul._

 _"_ _At last, everything is going my way,"_ _thought Vincent with a pleased smirk on his face,_ " _Today, I'll use my camera, and then he'll…"_

 _He froze abruptly in his tracks the moment he stepped foot in the dining area. The groups of children and adults eating pizza and playing games all vanished from his sight when he saw them._

 _Five other children._

 _Seated with Little Dougie._

His _Little Dougie._

 _There was nothing in his field of vision but the table at the front of the stage with his little one in the company of five, similarly-aged youths._

 _His heart skipped a beat._

 _A bead of sweat coursed down his forehead._

 _His eyes widened, his nostrils flared and his fists clenched tightly on their own as the past came racing back to him. He trembled with shock and outrage._

 _"_ _No…"_ _he growled mentally as events from 1986 resurfaced in his mind's eye,_ _"Five of them… just like the last time! No! This cannot be happening again!"_

 _Vincent's face hardened into an incensed scowl, his glaring eyes cold as marble as he watched Dougie's friends with the same burning animosity he had for Timmy Richardson's friends six years ago._

 _"_ _Timmy… Sweet Timmy…" he remembered with sentimental longing,_ _"I had to let you go because of your friends… they turned you against me. Tore us apart. They got what they deserved…"_

 _"_ _Hey! Vincent!"_

 _The purple-clothed man snapped out of his dark, brooding state and quickly forced a happy smile when he heard and saw Dougie waving excitedly for him._

 _He waved back and saw the other kids turning their heads to look at him; stupefied expressions came over their faces as if they could not believe he was standing in plain sight._

 _Dougie came running over._

"Vincent! Vincent! My friends came back! They got over the flu!" _he squealed joyously as if it were Christmas morning._

"That's good, Little Dougie!" _said Vincent, feigning happiness and sincerity._ "You all look mighty happy to be together."

"You bet!" _nodded Dougie quickly, and then pulling on Vincent's hand to get him to come over to the table._ "Come! You must meet my friends!"

 _Vincent followed close on his heels, forcing a grin on his face when he got to where they all were. Their faces all lit up, except for one - a boy with spiky red hair, a bit taller than the rest, looking at Vincent with mild suspicion and arms folded._

 _"_ _That must be Jamie,"_ _thought Vincent as he continued to fake a smile for all of them, but annoyed that they were cutting into his and Dougie's special 'playtime'._ _"Better get this over with."_

 _Dougie spoke first,_ "This is Vincent, my new friend! We've been playing together while you were sick!"

 _Then he looked at Jamie with a smug look on his face._

"See, Jamie?" _he began to boast,_ "I told you he was real!"

 _Jamie snorted,_ "Yeah, well, I'm sure he only felt sorry for you, Dougie."

"That's not true, Jamie," _Vincent declared to the seven-year-old,_ "Little Dougie's a really nice kid and I enjoy his company. We played every day while you weren't here."

 _Already he was beginning to hate the kid and his attitude._

 _Jamie pursed his lips and turned up his nose at the man,_ "You're weird."

 _Vincent chuckled, wanting to backhand the boy across his rude little mouth._ "I guess I am," _he replied with a mocking smirk._

"Jamie, be nice!" _chastised Nicky. Jamie rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue._

"Why don't you all tell me your names?" _asked Vincent, feigning interest and wanting to usher Dougie into the boys' bathroom._

"My name is Amber," _the lone girl declared with a small wave._

"I'm Jeff," _smiled the boy, making his black cheeks shine._

"Shalom, sh'mi Yoni. Naim meod lehakir otha," _Yoni said in fluent Hebrew._

"Aleikhem shalom, Yoni," _replied Vincent with a tip of his cap, eliciting a giggle from the Jewish boy._

"My name is Nicky," _smiled the blond-haired boy to the older man._

"Jamie," _muttered the redhead indifferently._

"I'm Vincent DiCarlo," _the security guard greeted, wishing this could move along._ "It's good to finally meet you all. Little Dougie talked about you a lot."

"I'm so happy that you're back here at Freddy's now!" _piped up Dougie, taking a step towards the rest of the group,_ "I missed playing with you guys!"

"So did we," _responded Amber, sliding off her seat._

"Well, now that we're all acquainted, Little Dougie and I've gotta go now," _Vincent said, taking hold of Dougie's hand._

"Hold on!" _interrupted Jamie, the others with slightly bewildered looks on their faces,_ "We wanna play with Dougie first! We didn't get to have fun last week! You can wait, Mister!"

 _Vincent glanced at him in genuine surprise, not expecting to be so brazenly challenged by a child. Still, he spoke; restraining his anger, but his voice was noticeably sharp._

"You can all play together tomorrow instead. Little Dougie wants to play with me today," _he said. He didn't blink once. He didn't raise his voice. But his expression hardened towards the child,_ _"You're really starting to piss me off, boy..."_

"Vincent," _came Dougie's voice softly._

 _The man looked down at him._

"I-I know what I said yesterday… but I really want to play with my friends today. I really missed them. Please?"

 _Vincent stooped down to his level, his ice blue eyes gazing into the brown pools of uncertainty and wanting before him._

"Come on, Little Dougie," _he whispered to him so the others would not hear,_ "You know how much this means to me and Freddy. You remember what he said, don't you? Why do you want to hurt our feelings?'

"I don't mean to, Vincent, but I just want to have fun and play games with my friends today. I don't want to hurt their feelings either. I don't think Freddy would want me to do that," _murmured Dougie._

 _Vincent opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it. He realized that if he made a fuss, it would only agitate the six-year-old and cause suspicion in the others. He had to wait this one out and satisfy his urges when he was alone._

"You know what? You're absolutely right," _Vincent finally replied with a smile,_ "You go and have fun with your friends today. I'll get you some ice cream before you go home."

"Really?! Oh thank you Vincent!" _perked up Dougie, speaking louder this time with a bright-eyed expression._

"Uh-huh, but just for today or Freddy's going to get upset you're not keeping your promise," _reminded Vincent._

 _Dougie's expression faltered a bit and he glanced apprehensively to the side, knowing what was to come._ "Oh…"

"Don't worry; it'll be worth it in the end. But for tomorrow, I want you to meet me backstage, but make sure no one sees you. Got it?" _relayed the purple man._

"OK," _the brown boy nodded, but he stayed, his feet rooted to the spot. Something else was bothering him._

"What is it, Little Dougie? Something else the matter?" _queried Vincent._

 _Dougie blinked and shifted his weight from foot to foot before answering, but when he did there was a tension he could not hide that gripped his vocal cords so that his words seemed to carry great weight._

"Vincent... I-I-I saw something... something really scary happened with Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy."

"Scary? What do you mean?"

"Well, Freddy started playing the song he plays when it's his bedtime, and I went up onto the stage... and then he started to talk to me."

"Really? What did he say?"

"He... he said I had to get away from here and I was in great danger. The others said that I had to go before it was too late... before something bad happens again, and then Freddy turned yellow."

"Yellow?" _said Vincent with surprise and then looking at the inactive animatronics._

"Yes, Freddy turned yellow for a little while," _continued Dougie with a shiver and holding his wrist._ "And then there was this yucky smell, and blood and snot started running from their eyes and mouths. Vincent... they had no eyes!"

 _Vincent just stared back at Dougie with an incredulous look on his face._

 _"_ _They're manifesting again..."_ _surmised Vincent in his head,_ _"They just don't know when to give up..."_

 _Then he asked,_ "And then what happened?"

"... and then I woke up," _Dougie answered earnestly._ "Vincent, I'm scared. Why would Freddy and his friends say those things to me? Why would they do those scary things for?"

 _Vincent breathed a fake sigh of relief and gave a reassuring pat on Dougie's shoulder,_ "Oh Little Dougie, you just had a bad dream, that's all," he said in a soft, gentle tone. "Freddy loves you. So do Bonnie, Chica and even Foxy. They would never do anything to hurt you or make you feel scared. I'll tell you what, I'll arrange for Freddy to come talk to you again before you go home; he'll tell you there's nothing to worry about and that he loves you. How does that sound?"

"It sounds OK," _replied Dougie, perking up a little more,_ "But it felt so real, Vincent."

"Bad dreams can seem very real, but they can't – "

"Before next year!" _Jamie's voice loudly interrupted from a few feet away,_ "Hurry up, Vincent! We're waiting for Dougie!"

 _Vincent's eyes narrowed,_ _"You annoying little pissant!"_ _he thought, wishing to kick the impatient brat in the mouth._

"Coming Jamie!" _called back Dougie and then finished Vincent's sentence,_ "They can't hurt me. They're not real!"

 _Then he let a big grin spread across his face, feeling a lot better and more confident._

"That's my boy," _smiled Vincent slyly, messing up Dougie's hair._ "Now run along and play with your friends."

 _Dougie nodded and jogged off to the rest of the kids, who all then headed over to the fun and games section. There was excited chatter about first playing a game in the big ball pit; a combination of hide-and-seek and tag._

"Let's make this a game we won't forget EVER!" _cheered Jeff and they all giggled excitedly, disappearing around the corner._

 _When they'd gone, Vincent slowly stood up from stooping, keeping his eyes on the children until they were out of sight, and then his eyes flared; arctic pools transforming into blue flames. His teeth gritted, his fists balled, and he fumed inside at not being able to play with his Little Dougie._

 _Vincent turned and glared daggers at each of the animatronics, moving from one to the other as if intending to speak to each of them, or rather, address the spirits within._

 _Freddy... Bonnie... Chica... Foxy... Golden Freddy..._

 _"_ _Keith... Daniel... Megan... Charles... Judith... you think your pathetic little mind tricks are going to keep Little Dougie away from me? You think you can stop me? You can't!" he sneered, taunting the ghosts of his previous victims._ _"Manifesting blood, mucous and bad smells was a clever idea. Bravo! But I still remain, and no one believes you. You never stood a prayer! You failed, you fools! You will ALWAYS fail!"_

 _With a haughty chuckle, Vincent turned and quickly strode over to the security office._

"Out!" _he commanded sharply to Barry, who hurriedly left without a word, seeing that his superior was in a foul mood._

 _The livid thirty-nine-year-old pressed the big red door buttons, waiting until both metal doors slammed down shut and he was alone inside that he let his composed facade slip off._

"No... no... NO!" _Vincent raged through clenched teeth, punching one of the doors, his anger numbing the pain, but this act did nothing to ebb the resentment he felt towards Amber, Yoni, Nicky, Jeff and Jamie._

 _Especially Jamie._

 _He imagined them all playing together in the ball pit, enjoying their game and having a blast. Little Dougie was happy, too. Happy without him. Not needing him. Not playing a special game with him._

 _Vincent hated that he didn't get his way._

 _"_ _How DARE they!" he thundered inside at the kids who came between him and Dougie,_ _"Those brats are going to ruin everything! I lost Timmy because of his fucking friends! I can't let it happen again! I CAN'T!"_

 _Then he turned much of his vitriol onto Jamie, narrowing his eyes at the thought of the precocious, spoiled, entitled little redhead and his smug, stuck-up face._

"Motherfucker... someone needs to teach you some manners..." _he growled under his breath._

 _"_ _HAHAHAHA! This was so much fun!"_

 _Dougie's pealing laughter, a sweet sound to Vincent's ears, jolted him from his dark thoughts. He didn't quite know how long he was standing there in the office fuming, but it had to be nearly ten minutes at least._

 _He shook his head and pulled himself together, pushing back his turbulent feelings behind his mask of friendliness and civility, and then opened back up the office doors._

 _"_ _Maybe their game is done and Little Dougie's ready to take a break?"_ _he thought hopefully, wondering if maybe he'd be able to squeeze in a quick session in the bathroom or storage closet with the sweet little boy._

 _When he got to the fun and games section he realized there would be no such luck and disappointment reared its head again. They were all still playing in the ball pit, apparently having just finished round one of their game._

 _Dougie noticed his adult friend and waved. Vincent smiled and waved back, but when the child had turned his head back to his playmates, his face hardened again._

 _Vincent's baleful eyes were fixed bitterly on the figures of Amber, Jamie, Yoni, Nicky and Jeff, submerged up to their necks in the different-coloured, hollow plastic balls, having a blast with Dougie. They were even encouraging other kids to join in the game as well._

 _But Vincent stood in the doorway hating them, burning up with jealousy amongst the jostling crowd of kids and passing adults. They filled him with murderous hatred._

 _He flashed them a menacing glare and slid his right hand deep into his pocket, searching, feeling for something familiar. His fingers enclosed the thing he was looking for, and he gripped it tightly as if it were the only thing keeping him alive._

 _A Rigid USA Apache R-9 Folding Lockback Hunting Knife._

 _Vincent slightly unfolded the 3 ¾-inch 440 stainless steel blade from its sleek, polished, exotic, finger-grooved rosewood handle, and touched the tip with the meat of his thumb. It pricked him. He ran his thumb along the edge of the blade and smiled when he felt it leave a thin, neat trail of blood._

 _Thereafter, he felt something else awaken inside of him._

 _A delicious feeling._

 _A sinful need._

 _A hungering force._

 _Vincent smiled even wider when he remembered the last time he felt this way._

 _Six years ago._

 _Six long years since the force inside him was this strong._

 _It was different from the urges and thoughts he had towards little boys like Dougie Blackburn, but it was the second side of his coin and it made him feel so alive, so pleasured and so powerful; and the thrill it gave him was almost better than sex._

 _It was blood hunger._

 _His thirst to kill, the need to destroy life, the craving for the smell of fresh, warm blood dripping through his fingers and tricking down his face drove him to do what he relished doing so many times in the past. He thrived on the fear he invoked in his victims; he loved every second of it._

 _Now, his hunger was beginning to pang again._

 _But yet the true nature of the force that made up every fiber of Vincent William DiCarlo's being had many other names, but all knew it could be summed up with just one, simple, four-letter word._

 _Evil._

 _The evil coursed through Vincent's veins, racing in his heart, pounding in his head. It multiplied quickly in his blood, slowly transforming him into the monster he was born to be, rising from its abyssal hibernation. The predator rattled the bars of its prison, wanting to be free, needing to feed, to rip, tear, kill its chosen prey, but he did not release the beast, the cage remained locked._

 _Vincent put the metaphorical key to the cage far away and he thought, "No… Not yet… maybe it will be different this time… maybe they won't try to stop me? Maybe they won't get in my way this time…"_

 _He looked back at Dougie, who was now trying to find his pals hidden in the ball pit, and licked his lips, fantasizing about taking him right there and making him completely his._

 _"_ _Don't worry, Little Dougie... it'll be OK,"_ _he smiled, watching him keenly and feeling an all-too-familiar hardening in his groin, "Vincent's here for you."_

 _The man's eyes settled on the boy's five friends, who were now all cheerfully laughing together, and then he squeezed his knife as tightly as he could. They had now strayed into his killing ground._

 _"_ _I'll do whatever it takes to make you mine... because that's how much I want you..."_

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **I will say it was a bit of a challenge to write Dougie's five friends. It's one thing to write a lone six-year-old, but another to write a whole group of them, so believe it or not, I went and watched a bunch of classic Barney & Friends episodes to get a better idea of how to do it. Talk about dying for your art. .**

 **In my version of the lore's events, the blood, mucous and bad smells that the animatronics leaked which customers complained about were simply paranormal manifestations the children's spirits were causing in the hopes that it would get the restaurant closed down and prevent what happened to them from happening again. Needless to say, here and in the games, it does not work.**

 **And it seems that Vincent's true psychotic nature has revealed itself and he's going into full-on yandere mode, which is fitting since one of my inspirations for him (his human self, that is) was Yuno Gasai from Future Diary. Just look her up to see what I mean.**

 **In the present, Douglas is going to have a very hard time going back into Fazbear's Fright, but he will have more flashbacks and more ghostly encounters, that I will say.**

 **Anyway, hope you all liked this chapter. I'm going to start work on the next one.**

 **Until next time!**


	22. Contemplation

**This chapter took so long to do for two reasons.**

 **The first is because in early September, I traveled up to Canada to visit with my older sister whom I hadn't seen since 2013, so much of my time was given to me spending a lot of quality time with her, helping her out with a lot of stuff as well as exploring the city of Toronto. It's been a lot of fun, but unfortunately for the story, I didn't have much motivation or time to write as I did before and sometimes it was a chore to sit down and write, but I am happy that I got through this.**

 **The second reason is due to the fact that originally this chapter and the next one was supposed to be one big chapter. However, at over 8000 words, it was simply dragging on too long and so I split the chapter into two parts and re-formatted and re-edited things so that they flowed coherently and didn't become too much of a bore for the readers/**

 **Anyway, Douglas is gearing up for his fifth night at Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction, and so many things are going through his head all at once. He's not going to have it easy for sure, and a familiar face makes a return in the last scene.**

* * *

 **Contemplation**

* * *

 **August 23 – 7:13 PM – River Plaza, Apartment #I3**

It was nightfall when Douglas softly awoke.

With a low grunt he looked around the bedroom, half-expecting to see the eerie figures of Shadow Freddy and Shadow Bonnie leering at him from the corners with their glowing white eyes and teeth, or perhaps somebody even worse.

Springtrap.

But there was nothing to greet him. He was all alone.

For now.

Douglas sighed, relieved, and massaged his forehead. He sat up in bed, the effort made him dizzy, and pulled himself from the well of dreams, bringing more of the unearthed memories with him; pictures of a lost childhood; precious keepsakes from the halls of time.

"My friends..." sniffed Douglas dryly, for he'd used up all his tears crying himself to sleep. "We had so much fun at Freddy's that day when we were together ... playing, singing along with Freddy and the gang, having ice cream... hell, I even remember Nicky getting hit right in the nose when we played tetherball."

He smiled a bit from his recollections of that day and then slowly got up to saunter to the bathroom to take a leak.

" _I remember I had a little crush on Amber, and Yoni and Jeff always used to tease me about it,"_ Douglas reflected, _"_ _And Jamie... ha, you were always the show off, always bragging cus you were older and richer, but_ _whenever we were at your house, you'd make sure we had a great time, and you always gave us your unwanted toys… even though they were still brand new._

 _I also remember that you'd stand up and bat for any one of us whenever we were in trouble;_ _like the time that bully Ciaran Colby came and kicked down our sandbox castle. You gave him one: POW! Right in the kisser! That showed him!"_

When he finished his business and flushed the toilet, Douglas looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was red from so much crying, and his eyes were still puffy and melancholy from the events of this morning.

He sadly touched the mirror's surface and held his fingertips there with his reflection's, half-expecting it to pull him through the glass surface into another world, but no such luck. Nothing could take him away from the trainwreck that was his life now.

His eyes began to water again when the memories of him being sexually abused by Vincent crept back into his mind. He wanted to collapse and hug himself like he did for a long time in the shower this morning, but no, he could not afford to fall apart again. Not now!

Douglas fought to control of himself, "You have to be strong, Douglas! Come on! You have to be strong for tonight or else Springtrap will get you!" he said aloud, looking up and telling his mirror image to get a hold of himself.

Finally regaining composure, Douglas headed to his living room, passing over the line of salt he'd poured across the entrance to his bedroom at the door. He'd read some time ago that salt could be used to ward off ghosts and other negative energies, and though he wasn't certain how effective it'd be against Shadow Freddy and Shadow Bonnie, he hoped it would at least keep them out of his room.

Outside through the Venetian blinds, the night was quiet and the lights from Harrisburg made the blackness glitter like stars in the heavens. Ordinarily, Douglas sometimes liked to sit by the window seat and enjoy the sight, but there was too much on his mind for that right now.

"Vincent was really angry that day," Douglas noted, loading up his percolator with his favourite Tim Horton's, "He hated my friends. He was jealous of them taking me away from him. He couldn't get to touch me then."

As the coffee dripped into the glass pot and its delicious smell wafted up into the air, making Douglas feel slightly more at ease, a new and disturbing thought crossed his mind.

"Did… did Vincent murder my friends?" he trembled, his brown eyes worried and fearful, "Did he kill them? Was he behind those other missing children? Did he murder them too?"

If Springtrap's behavior and the part of the dream-memory where Vincent gripped the knife in his pocket was anything to go by, then Douglas knew he was more than capable of brutal murder, for the man-turned-machine was a level of evil that is relentless and without conscience, and would do anything to get what he wanted. But then he thought of the other flashback he had, with his bloody hands in the room with his dead friends sitting at a table with cake, and him sobbing that he was sorry over and over again, and that voice demanding to know _'_ _what did you do?'_

It kept haunting him.

" _Why was I there? Did I participate in killing my friends? But why would I do that? Why were they left like that for?"_ he asked himself, pouring his cup and adding cream and sugar, with one last issue crossing his mind, _"_ _And what was Barry Driscoll's role in all of this? Why was he so at ease with listening to Vincent's pedo talk? And what did Vincent have for him?"_

 _ **THUMP!**_

There was a noise behind him in the living room. He rapidly spun around, nearly knocking over his mug on the counter, and saw just in time the shadowy outline of a large animatronic rabbit with white eyes and teeth fading into thin air.

Douglas rolled his eyes and grumbled, "As if being hunted by a killer animatronic possessed by the rotting corpse of a fucking pedophile was bad enough, now I have these... these… things haunting me! I can't even feel safe in my own home!"

Exasperated, he picked up his steaming mug and paced to the window to stare outside while he contemplated what he was going to do for his fifth night at Fazbear's Fright.

"Springtrap's going to be more determined than ever to catch me, now that I remember the truth about our past," the man shuddered as he sipped the delicious brew and felt it trickling down into his tummy. "I cannot pussyfoot this time in there, I have to stay focused and ignore those phantom animatronics. But what are they? Are those things trying to get me killed? Or do they just want me to leave?"

He briefly contemplated about the phantoms, if they were merely hallucinations, or if Springtrap was manifesting them with some kind of supernatural power, or if perhaps they were the spirits of the original five murdered children. He couldn't say for sure, but they creeped him the hell out.

" _You know what? Maybe I don't even have to go to that place tonight?"_ Douglas suddenly thought, _"_ _If I leave tonight, I could run far away someplace where Springtrap can't find me… like maybe Texas or even Alaska?"_

Douglas seriously considered doing it for a minute, but then he realized with horror that to do so would risk placing many other lives in great danger.

" _No no… I can't do that!"_ he thought, biting his lip, _"_ _Even though Jason would sue the hell out of me, he'll just put some other poor sap in my place and then Springtrap will kill him and come after me!"_

He saw the whole scene unfold in his head.

Jason would hire some new, unsuspecting high school graduate to be Douglas's replacement, and the new guy would know nothing about what had been going on or about Springtrap's true nature. Springtrap would see that the night guard is not his Little Dougie, would get pissed off and attack the new guy who would try to fight but fail miserably, then Springtrap would mercilessly kill him in a gruesome fashion and then leave Fazbear's Fright to get his Little Dougie, following him to the ends of the earth like a hunter tracking the spoor of his prey.

Douglas imagined the scene of the teenager getting killed by the demented rabbit.

 _Springtrap grabbed the petrified young man by his neck, shrieking that awful, bone-chilling hiss in his face, and then lifted him up into the air just like he did with Douglas on his third night. Then he swiftly plunged his entire fist into the man's chest, smashing effortlessly through his rib cage, gripping and yanking his heart straight out of his body. Blood sprayed everywhere and soaked the chair, table, monitors and Springtrap's hand and body as the heart beat for the last few times._

Douglas was hyperventilating and his hand was trembling, making his drink slosh around in the mug whilst he hallucinated being a witness to the scene.

 _Springtrap dropped the teenager's twitching carcass onto the bloody ground and then turned to face him, splattered with blood, and grinning that frightening slasher smile. The animatronic pointed a finger at him while still holding the heart in his other hand._

" _Now look what you made me do," he rasped with a sadistic chuckle, beginning to advance on him. "There is no escape from me, Little Dougie. You are mine. You belong to me… And now I'm going to get you!"_

"No!" said Douglas with firm determination, shaking his head and snapping out of the vivid illusion, "I have to stay and stop that monster! He'll never stop chasing me. I can't allow him to hurt other people. I have to do this!"

He sipped his coffee, turned away from the window and paced around his small living room thinking up his strategy for the night. In a brief moment of fear, he imagined Springtrap's powerful, greenish-yellow arm straight-up smashing through his front door, flailing around and grabbing for him.

Douglas shuddered and drank more of his hot drink. _"_ _At this point, the only place I think I'll be safe at is Fort Knox!"_ he thought, adding, _"…_ _And even then, I think Springtrap would still find a way to get at me."_

He looked at his mum's glass torsion clock and saw that it was just after 7:30; way too early to go to work, and there was no way he'd fall back asleep now that he was wide awake.

" _Maybe I could watch something online to pass the time?"_ he thought, glancing at his laptop on the coffee table. _"_ _Been meaning to catch up on Game of Thrones for a while now…"_

As he moved towards his dad's red armchair, he felt a cold, prickly sensation travel up his back, and whirled around just in time to see the dark specter of Shadow Freddy fade into nothingness behind him, the image of his creepy glowing eyes and teeth lingering in the air for just a few seconds longer.

Douglas glared and yelled at the spot where Shadow Freddy had been, "PISS OFF! Fucking go away and leave me alone!"

Nothing.

It seemed Shadow Freddy got the message.

"That's it!" flounced up Douglas, restraining himself from angrily pitching his mug against the wall. "If you two won't talk to me, then I'm not sticking around here!"

Downing the rest of his coffee, Douglas stormed back into his bedroom to shower and change for a long walk before work. He needed to get out and get away from everything for a while.

As he turned his back on the living room and kitchen area, the two imposing figures of Shadow Freddy and Shadowy Bonnie sidled up out of the corners of the room, gaining form from the darkness and taking their familiar shapes.

The two entities just stared at the man.

Just stared and planned.

* * *

 **9:45 PM – Downtown Harrisburg**

Douglas always enjoyed going to Pennsylvania's capital city since there was so much to do and see; it was also where his old job at the Weekend Variety Magazine was located.

He fondly remembered taking trips to visit some of the more well-known places in the city after his initial move back to the state in the months following his parents' funeral. Marked off his checklist was the massively imposing Pennsylvania State Capitol, the highly educational National Civil War Museum, the beautiful and serene Wildwood Park, the State Museum of Pennsylvania where he learned more about his home state's history, the (literally) intoxicating Appalachian Brewing Company, and the sprawling but almost quaint Colonial Park Mall.

The distractions helped him cope with his loss. It helped him move on.

But tonight he could care less about all those places He didn't even care where the bus was going to in the city; he just needed to get away from the haunting curse of Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction, away from the nightmares that'd become too real, even if it was just for a few short hours.

Dressed in his uniform, Douglas walked with his hands tucked in his zipped-up black jacket, lost in his thoughts. He stopped walking and looked out at the inky waters of the Susquehanna River, momentarily contemplating if he should fill his pockets with heavy rocks and drown himself to escape his predicament.

" _No!"_ he chastised himself mentally, leaning against a lamppost, _"_ _I'll never do that. I won't take my life. I won't be the latest victim of Fazbear Entertainment's monsters. I won't!"_

Douglas continued walking again. It'd obviously poured whilst he slept the day away since everything was wet, and from the look of things, rain had washed the asphalt in sheets since there were still plenty of puddles everywhere.

" _Maybe if I found a proper weapon this time, I'll be able to destroy Springtrap? But I need answers from him; and I sure as hell ain't walking up to him and asking…"_ Douglas ruminated, _"_ _But what weapon? A gun? Good luck getting that at this ninety-ninth hour! Springtrap's built like a terminator, so that won't do shit… Maybe a can of hairspray and a lighter? Yeah, sure… burn the whole place down while you're at it, Douglas!"_

Then his questions shifted over to the events at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza back in 1993.

" _Why would I kill my friends?"_ he frowned, his face saddening, _"_ _I couldn't have done it. No way! But why was I saying sorry for? And to whom? Vincent? Barry? Barry did take orders from Vincent. Maybe he killed them cus Vincent told him to? Or maybe I was forced to under duress? But if the murderer was there, then how did I get away alive? And why did this happen? Did my friends find out I was being molested by Vincent? What else did he do to me?"_

Douglas stopped and shivered on the spot, hugging himself when Vincent's wicked abuse of him resurfaced yet again. The night was quiet and starry, with a slight breeze starting up from the north, but it only made Douglas shiver some more despite the warmth of his jacket. He suddenly heard a loud metallic crash on the pavement nearby and jumped, frantically trying to find its source, afraid that Springtrap had come to catch him, but soon after relaxed when he saw a stray dog had knocked over a metal garbage can in search of scraps.

"For God's sake!" Douglas swore under his breath. "Now I can't go anywhere without looking over my shoulder!"

The man exhaled and checked his watch. It was just a few minutes past 10, and he suddenly realized that he was feeling rather peckish. He glanced around and saw a 7-Eleven convenience store far up ahead.

Douglas's stomach rumbled and he shrugged, "Well, it may not be my first choice, but I need my strength for my shift tonight. Stupid me should've grabbed something before I left! Oh well…"

* * *

 **11:20 PM – A Bus**

"Lord, I made a pig of myself!" groaned Douglas, rubbing his full, bloated tummy as he settled into the seat of the Capital Area Transit bus which was en route to 1331 West Kirton Drive.

"I should've just had the spicy chicken sandwich, but noooo, I had to have the quarter-pound Big Bite hot dog AND this Super Big Gulp Slurpee on top of it too!" he continued, chastising himself and swirling the half-full, watermelon-flavoured, slushed ice drink in the huge cup; too full to finish it but not wanting to throw it and the money spent away.

He sighed and tilted his head back, staring up at the bus's ceiling and idly tapping his foot. Bored.

"Maybe some music will help pass the time…" he muttered, reaching in his pocket for his iPhone5 and headphones to listen to his favourite playlist. But as he did so, the bus suddenly lurched to a stop and picked up another passenger.

A man on his phone.

"Yeah hon, tell the boys I'm so sorry I can't make it home for games night. I know how much they love it when we all play Mexican Train," spoke the man to his wife as he flashed his bus pass at the driver and found a seat.

Douglas smiled, _"_ _Reminds me of when mummy and daddy used to play Uno, Go Fish or Jenga with me when I was little every Wednesday night. Sometimes daddy couldn't be there cus he was doing an overnight flight for FedEx…"_ he fondly reminisced.

The man continued talking, "Been breaking my balls at work on this project all week. Nearly done, but I promise I'll make it up to the boys. I'll get us that new game they've been advertising on TV; it looks like a very fun game."

Douglas's eyes widened a bit at the mention of the words _"_ _a very fun game"_.

Something was beginning to stir once more in his head.

* * *

 **11:52 PM – 1331 West Kirton Drive – Outside Fazbear's Fright**

The words were still plaguing his mind when he exited the bus at the stop near Fazbear's Fright. He knew they were the key to something bad, but something important; something that held more answers to the buried secrets of his past. But he was unsure of just how much more he could take.

Still upset from having his life steamrolled by something horrific, even failing to notice the ghoulish sign with the demonic, shadowy animatronics and the morbid, giant pizza topped with human body parts, Douglas rounded the corner at the back of Fazbear's Fright and was surprised to see a new vehicle parked near the rear entrance.

It was a shiny, ruby red Lamborghini Aventador LP 700-4 glistening ostentatiously like a queen dripping with jewels at a grand ball.

The impressive car was extremely out of place in the dark and dreary location, and Douglas realized instantly that such a conspicuous display of wealth could only belong to one person he knew.

" _Heeeyyyyyyy, Dougie man! Way, way cool to see you again, dude! Howzit, brah?"_

Douglas cringed and exhaled slowly before answering, "Hello Jason."

The mock surfer dude was leaning up against the door to the building with arms folded and a lit joint between his smiling lips. This time he was dressed in the black Fazbear's Fright T-shirt with a pair of lemon yellow swim trunks with white turtle designs on them.

He approached his reluctant employee and spoke again.

"Dude, I had, like, a totally tubular party last night! I got so shacked! It was, like, WHAAPA!" Jason relayed excitedly.

"Good for you," deadpanned Douglas.

"Totally! I fucking rip, Dougie dude!" gabbed the peroxide blond, acting as if their last conversation never happened, "I scored so hard with this hot babe at the party! Mmph! Sweet nectar right there! I went through, like, six dude packs last night with her! Cowabunga!"

But Douglas was not in the mood.

"Cut the shit, Jason. Why are you here?" he asked impatiently, tucking his hands in his pockets.

Jason's expression fell a little bit.

"This is _my_ property, remember?" he said, rolling his joint between his fingers, "Just checkin' out my investment before opening night."

"Sure," replied Douglas curtly, not fully buying it.

"Like, what's your problem, dude?" said Jason, adding, "You need to chill out," before taking a long drag of the spliff and holding it in.

"My problem?" seethed Douglas at his boss, "Oh, I don't know… maybe my problem is being threatened with complete ruin by my boss, who has zero fucks to give about a dangerous, haunted animatronic inside that building!"

"Ha ha! You're funny, Dougie man," chortled Jason, marijuana smoke issuing from his mouth and nose, "But my warning totally still stands, and it's, like, totally cool to see you're keeping up your end of the deal."

"Like I have a choice!" retorted Douglas before pleading fruitlessly with the pothead again, "Jason, Springtrap is dangerous! People will die! Don't you get it? This always happened every time something Freddy Fazbear-related opened its doors, and it's going to happen again!"

Jason only rolled his eyes lazily at the younger man.

"Do I, like, get bonus points if I act like I care?" he nonchalantly dismissed, tossing the spliff to the side before adding another insult, "I don't know what language you're speaking, bro, but it sounds like bullshit."

"Go hug a landmine, Jason," grumbled Douglas to which Jason laughed.

"You're so adorable, dude!" he chuckled, turning his back on the security guard to go to his car.

"I mean it," asserted Douglas, following behind and detecting a strong smell of Vodka coming from the car.

"Whatever," scoffed Jason as he got into the Lamborghini and pulled down the scissor door, "Just get your brown ass in there and, like, do what I'm paying you to do."

"I should've taken that job as a costumed performer for Cheeky's Chicken Barn!" fretted Douglas, not realizing Jason overheard him, despite standing right next to the door.

"Well, dude, you should be grateful!" he chuckled again as he started his engine, revving it up and giving his employee a big shit-eating grin, "If you had, you'd have, like, totally missed the pleasure of working for me!"

Laughing, he sped off away into the night, leaving the twenty-six-year-old coughing from the car's exhaust.

"I could've joined up on that reason alone!" snarked Douglas with another heavy cough.

He looked at the door to the building and mentally prepared himself for his shift, but as he did, the scent of Vodka still lingered in the cool night air.

Douglas sniffed the aroma again. He'd had his fair share of booze and Vodka shots aplenty back in his college days whenever there were dorm parties or when he went clubbing with his campus buddies, but this time it struck a strange familiarity with him, particularly when the phrase, _"_ _a very fun game"_ , the man on the bus uttered came into the mix.

Then there was a sudden tickling at the back of his brain that grew into a hard scratching trying to dig something out. The commonplace, yet strangely foreboding words coupled with the alcoholic odour suddenly filled him with dread. His heart raced, his hands trembled, perspiration appeared on his brow, and the world spun before his eyes as the scratching in his head finally dug out what it was searching for.

Another memory; a continuation of the one he had on his first night.

A new torment.

When Vincent struck again.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

 **Looks like Jason's still making sure he has our protagonist by the balls and that he won't try to run away. Things just seem to be getting worse and worse for poor Douglas!**

 **I want to mention that the hallucination Douglas has where he sees what will likely happen to a new night guard if he abandoned his job is taken from a video done by the very talented Zapper770 on YouTube. To see how it would've looked, just look up _"(SFM) Springtrap's Death Scene Revised"_ on YouTube and click the top result**

 **Like before, I wish to give a big shoutout to Antoine, the writer of an awesome Springtrap horror story called _"A Springtrap Interview"_. He's a really sweet guy, an awesomely talented writer and he does an amazing job is his portrayal of Vincent/Springtrap. I really, really recommend that you give it a read, fave it and give him some feedback. He jolly well deserves it!**

 **That said, the next chapter (which will come next week) will feature a VERY disturbing scene much like the one in Chapter 19, so be forewarned. I will put up the appropriate warnings like I did the last time.**

 **As always, feel free to leave any feedback you may have. I'm always grateful for it. :-)**


	23. A Very Fun Game

**Happy Halloween ghouls and ghosts! Here I am with another chapter on this spookiest of days since it only felt appropriate to post it today.**

 **I want to say that this chapter begins where the flashback from chapter 7 ends, so you should perhaps go back and re-read it to re-familiarize yourself with the flashback.**

 **As I mentioned in the previous chapter, this one is going to contain a very disturbing scene like in Chapter 19, and like with that one, it wasn't easy to write and I had to tone it down a good bit.**

 **WARNING: This chapter contains scenes and thoughts of a highly pedophilic nature. One scene in particular is somewhat graphic, but would be very unsettling to people nonetheless. Therefore, if you know you will be disturbed or triggered by this subject matter, I strongly recommend you either skip the scene in question or skip this chapter altogether. I will be giving another warning to everyone before the scene starts.**

* * *

 **A Very Fun Game**

* * *

 **July 29, 1993 – 12:56 PM – Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

"Hey, Little Dougie!"

 _Dougie jumped and stopped in his tracks when he felt a large, strong hand clamp unexpectedly onto his shoulder. He turned to face whoever it was that literally grabbed his attention only to be greeted by a sudden blast of purple._

 _It was Vincent, sporting a big toothy smile on his face._

"Oh hi, Vincent!" _replied Dougie, smiling back and pointing to where Amber, Jamie, Yoni, Nicky and Jeff were standing over by the corner of the stage,_ "I'm gonna go play with my friends over there."

"Ah ah ah…" _tut-tutted Vincent, wagging his finger at the boy._ "Remember what we agreed on yesterday, Little Dougie. Today you'll play with me backstage. You have to keep your promise to Freddy. You all can play together some other time."

"Oh…" _remembered Dougie, deflating inside._

"Good boy," _complimented Vincent with a pat on his head,_ "Anyway, Captain Foxy's show is going to start just now, and while he's singing, I want you to sneak away and wait backstage for me. Make sure no one sees you."

"Yes Vincent," _replied Dougie softly, eyeing his friends who were looking on curiously._

"It's for the best, and Freddy will be very happy with you. You'll be making me very, very happy too," _said Vincent, emphasizing the second 'very' suggestively whilst looking over the multiracial child._

"I know," _Dougie murmured._

"I'm going to get some things ready. You run along to your friends, but remember the plan, OK?" _said Vincent, adjusting his peaked cap._

 _Dougie nodded and then headed over to his five friends, never looking back once._

" _ **I said Mr. Purple People Eater, what's your line?  
He said 'eatin' purple people and it sure is fine  
But that's not the reason that I came to land  
I want to get a job in a rock and roll band!'"**_

" _ **Well bless my soul, rock and roll, flyin' purple people eater  
Pigeon-toed, under-growed, flyin' purple people eater  
(We wear short shorts) friendly little people eater  
What a sight to see (oh!)"**_

' _The Fazbears' exuberantly continued their earwormy song to the excited masses of kids and tykes, programmed to appear happily invested in their routine, but each of the animals had noticed the brief conversation between the murderer and the child, and despite their bodies' twisting and jerky movements, their glass eyes remained locked on Dougie Blackburn; concerned for the youngster._

 _Especially Freddy._

"Dougie, what was that all about?" _asked Jeff once the sixth member of the group arrived._

"Nothing," _responded Dougie quickly,_ "Vincent just wanted to know if I enjoyed the pizza."

"That's really nice of him," _remarked Amber, pushing one of the ponytails of her bunches hairstyle off the shoulder of her white_ _Chica shirt._

" _That's really nice of him!" mimicked Jamie obnoxiously,_ "I think Vincent's weird. Something about him bugs me."

"You're just jealous, Jamie!" _shot back Amber._

"Jealous of what?" _challenged Jamie, folding his arms across his white and navy-striped polo shirt._

"Jealous that I'm friends with a grown-up and you're not!" _answered Dougie confidently, and then smirked,_ "And I get all the attention from him and you don't!"

"Yeah, well, I'm the oldest. I'm a big boy! I don't need a grown-up anymore!" _boasted Jamie, sticking his tongue out at Dougie._

"Nuh-uh! I'm going to be an even bigger boy than you, Jamie!" _Dougie proclaimed boldly, also sticking his tongue right back at Jamie, not realizing he was close to letting the cat out of the bag._

"Hush!" _castigated Yoni, pointing at Pirate's Cove where a large crowd of other kids were gathering._ "Foxy's here!"

"All right! I love Foxy!" _whooped Nicky, darting_ _towards the star-spangled, purple-curtained side stage where the pirate was coming to port._

 _But Jamie still had more to say._

"I'm older than you by nearly two years, Dougie. I'm always going to be bigger boy than you no matter what! Get used to it!" _the seven-year-old taunted with a laugh._

 _Dougie's face grew hot, and he pursed his lips before uttering defiantly,_ "Well I think you're wrong, Jamie. Wrong, wrong, wrong!"

 _Jamie laughed,_ "You can think I'm wrong, Dougie, but that's no reason to stop thinking! Ha ha ha… looks like you forgot to pay your brain bill!"

 _Amber rolled her eyes and took Dougie's hand,_ "Ignore him, Dougie. Let's go watch Captain Foxy together," _she said, starting to lead him away with Yoni and Jeff in tow._

"Whatever!" _snorted Jamie, following behind the rest._

 _By then Foxy had already leapt out from behind the purple curtains of Pirate's Cove with a sparkling shower of glitter to herald his arrival. The red fox animatronic looked more withered than usual. Tears in his chest fur were visible, his bare endoskeleton legs peeked out from the tops of his cavalier boots, and a brown glove conspicuously covered his left hand this time. But his proud and fiercely indomitable spirit burned as brightly as his topaz eyes._

"ALL HANDS HOAY!" _barked Foxy with great gusto, waving his hook hand about in a gesture for complete attention._

 _The kids all quieted down and stood in captivated awe at the pirate's domineering presence, waiting for what he had to say next._

"ARRR! THIS OL' SEA FOX JUS' LOVES SAILIN' TH' SE'EN SEAS! TER FEEL THAT SALTY SEA AIR, ME MATEYS, BLOWIN' ALL ROUND YER!" _disseminated Foxy with a proud tipping of his tricorne._

"ARRR! THIS BE THE ONLY WAY TER REALLY EXPERIENCE THE SEA! JUS' FOX AN' OCEAN, WI' NO LAN'LUBBERS PRISSY LAWS TER MEDDLE IN THAT MOST PRECIOUS O' UNIONS!"

 _Dougie surreptitiously looked around to see if he could slip away to the backstage. No opportunity yet._

 _Foxy continued with his story, strutting back and forth before the crowd,_ "NOW I BE GOIN' TER TELL YE WEE LADS N' LASSES ABOUT AN OL' BUCANEER WHO ONCE LIVED ON THE ISLE O' BARBADOS! HIS NAME BE SAM LORD, AN OL' MATEY O' MINE, A REAL CLEVER FREEBOOTER, AN' HIS STORY BE GOIN' LIKE THIS…"

 _Fast and catchy music with an upbeat calypso twang started blaring from the speakers, with the coloured lights and hung up pizza decorations twinkling and spinning in tune, as Captain Foxy began his ballad._

" _ **On this little island lived a buccaneer oh,**_

 _ **Sam Lord was his name!**_

 _ **He wrecked all the vessels laden down with gold,**_

 _ **Sailin' from the Spanish Main!**_

 _ **In his dungeon dark an' deep,**_

 _ **His wife he used to keep,**_

 _ **While he terrorized all the land!**_

 _ **And then one day they took him away,**_

 _ **Ol' Sammy was a broken man!**_

" _ **He used to hang the lanterns in the coconut trees,**_

 _ **To lure the ships upon the reefs,**_

 _ **And when the sailors thought**_ _**they'd sighted town,**_

 _ **Alas they'd run aground!"**_

 _Everyone was caught up in the moment, dancing away and singing along with the swashbuckling robot, paying no attention to the lone child leaving it all._

 _Dougie carefully tiptoed over to the stage with the inactive Fazbear band, not that tiptoeing would've mattered since the music was so loud and everyone's eyes were on Captain Foxy._

 _He looked up at Freddy, then Bonnie, then Chica, sighed and steeled himself for another play session with Vincent._

" _I can do this again,"_ _Dougie determined nervously in his head, going up onto the stage and apprehensively taking_ _measured steps towards the backstage door on the left behind the curtains._ _"_ _I'll show Jamie... I'll show him how wrong he is!"_

 _As he walked past Bonnie, his arm brushed against the rabbit's purple fur and he was suddenly hit by a powerful sense of foreboding. He stopped and glanced up at the silent bunny performer clutching his electric guitar and got the feeling he should turn back._

 _But Dougie shook his head and brushed it aside before walking through the door. It was too late for him to turn back._

" _Bad dreams like yesterday can't hurt me. They aren't real. They aren't real…"_

* * *

 **As I said in the beginning of this chapter, I was going to issue another warning when the disturbing scene was about to take place. So... _IF YOU KNOW THAT YOU ARE GOING TO BE DISTURBED OR TRIGGERED BY A SCENE OF CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE SKIP THIS ENTIRE SECTION! SCROLL PAST THE REPEATED "FNAF" THAT WILL MARK THE PARTS WHERE THE SCENE STARTS AND WHEN IT ENDS._  
**

 ** _THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!_**

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* * *

 **1:15 PM – The Backstage Room**

 _There was only the sound of his breathing, alone in darkness._

 _Dougie waited anxiously in the small backstage room, surrounded by everything that made the Fazbear animatronics come to life on stage. He'd been here twice before, but it still made him feel tense and strange; this room in particular was always stifling and claustrophobic._

 _The bundles of old wires reminded him of coiled snakes, the bottles of oil and hydraulic fluid were like samples in a lab, and the many spare head shells of the characters brought to mind skulls kept as a headhunter's prized trophies. He didn't want to be here by himself._

 _Outside at Pirate's Cove, Foxy continued with his ballad:_

" _ **Now Sammy made a mistake when he wrecked a vessel,**_

 _ **Of His Majesty's fleet!**_

 _ **Yes, they came from Ol' England with many, many soldiers,**_

 _ **Who weighed shackles on his feet!**_

 _ **There they said to Ol' Sammy,**_

' _ **Boy, you made a blunder!**_

 _ **For this has been your final wreck!'**_

 _ **And they took him back to England,**_

 _ **Until his dying day he wore an iron collar round his neck!"**_

 _The child uneasily shifted his weight from sneaker to sneaker, anticipating Vincent's arrival, but nervous about the playtime he had in mind._

" _This is really weird,"_ he pondered, _"_ _Playtime is always supposed to be fun for everybody. But only Vincent has fun… it really makes me feel bad. But Vincent's my friend… a grown-up wouldn't lie to me, and Freddy says it's OK. Freddy loves me..."_

"Good to see you here alone, Little Dougie," _came Vincent's voice,_ "You did good. You're learning well..."

 _His footsteps echoed back to Dougie as if in a cave, each step only serving to make the child's heart beat deeper and faster. He gripped the side of the table as Vincent came into view at the doorway with an expression on his face_ _as if he'd just found a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow._

"Hello Vincent," _said the boy quietly._

 _The purple man stepped inside the room, carefully shutting the door behind him and locking it, leaving him alone with the six-year-old. He flipped on a light switch, and a naked bulb flickered on, giving some illumination to the darkness. Dougie could see that Vincent was carrying a black duffel bag over his shoulder and it looked nearly empty, but still carried something._

"Hello, Little Dougie," _smiled Vincent, coming over and setting his bag down onto the table next to the empty Bonnie head shell. Dougie could see words written in purple marker on the zipper tag:_ _"_ _PROPERTY OF VINCENT DICARLO"_.

"I got you something: a gift," _said Vincent as he unzipped his bag and pulled out a Freddy plush toy._ "Now you can have your very own Freddy Fazbear to take home. How do you like that?"

"It's great, Vincent," _said Dougie, giving a smile as he took the toy and hugged it tightly,_ "Thank you very much. I love Freddy!"

"And Freddy loves you too," _Vincent added, pleased to be alone with Dougie,_ "And I love you too..."

 _He crouched and reached forward, cupping the back of Dougie's head reassuringly, disarmed by his pureness and beauty, before pulling him into a tight hug. Vincent hummed pleasurably, happy and oblivious to Dougie's discomfort._

 _Dougie bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, hugging his Freddy plush tightly as he was cocooned by the man's embrace, imagining that he was in Fazbear Hills playing with his bear friend. It was a tactic he'd learned to make the time go by faster; pretending he was not there._

 _Then suddenly, Vincent pulled back from the hug,_ "Better not get ahead of myself," _he said barely audibly, fixing his eyes squarely on Dougie who only stared down at the black-and-white tiled floor._

 _He stood up to his full height and exhaled before speaking,_ "All right now, Little Dougie, we're going to play a game. A new game."

"OK," _murmured Dougie, trying to hold back tears from once again feeling like that lifeless, cotton-stuffed doll as Vincent reached in his bag and_ _pulled out a black camera – a Nikon N8008._

"Don't look so down, Little Dougie," _noticed Vincent as he loaded a roll of film into the camera,_ "I promise you're going to like this one. It's a very fun game."

"I want to go back to my friends," _moped Dougie, looking away and wanting to shrivel up and disappear._

"Forget them!" _snapped_ _Vincent sharply,_ "You're with me now."

 _Dougie went quiet again._

 _Vincent removed his cap and then turned to face the child,_ "Now, the first rule of this new game is… you take off your clothes," _he purred with a sleazy smile forming on his face._

 _Dougie's eyes went huge and they welled up_ _with fear and embarrassment._

"W-what?" _he stammered, feeling_ _like a slab of meat under the man's penetrating gaze._

"You heard what I said," _Vincent said, holding up the camera,_ "You're going to be a model for me today."

"But… but… I don't want to," _whimpered Dougie, turning his head away in shame,_ "Please Vincent... don't make me do this..."

 _Vincent frowned,_ "Come on, don't be difficult. The other boys I helped before to become big boys did it. Here, let me help you..."

 _He reached for one of the cross straps of Dougie's white shortalls, only to have the boy start crying when his hand touched him._

"What's the matter, Little Dougie?" _asked Vincent, getting_ _frustrated_ _with the six-year-old's resistance,_ "Why aren't you doing what I say? You're being a very bad boy. Freddy doesn't like bad boys, you know."

 _Dougie looked up at Vincent with teary eyes,_ "I-I really want to do what you say, b-but this is too hard for me. I'm afraid..."

"There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just me, your friend Vincent. This is completely normal for men and little boys to do together."

"It... it is?"

"Yes, it is. And you know what? I'm going to help you, give you a little shortcut."

"You will?"

"Sure I will. Just stay right here for a minute. I'll be right back."

 _Vincent placed his camera on the table, and then he unlocked the backstage door and left, leaving Dougie all alone with just his Freddy plush to give him comfort. After about five minutes, Vincent came back holding a small-sized, Coca-Cola soda cup in his hand, and a smirk on his face._

"A Coke?" _observed a perplexed Dougie._

"Not just any Coke. It's my special big boy juice. I just need to add in the secret ingredient," _announced Vincent, pulling out a small hip flask from his bag. He uncapped it and poured a good amount of clear liquid into the soda._

"What's that?" _sniffed Dougie, noting a strong smell coming from the flask and being reminded of when his mummy and daddy had grown-ups over and there would be drinks he was not even allowed to sip._

"Oh, it's just a potion that Freddy gave me to help you," _replied Vincent nonchalantly, swirling the cup around and then handing it to Dougie,_ "Drink it and the magic will get to work."

 _Dougie looked at the drink in the cup and took a careful, measured sip. Almost immediately, he cringed at the taste. The Coke flavour was definitely there, but there was something else in the carbonated drink that tasted like watered down nail polished remover or rubbing alcohol. He_ _gagged and coughed, his throat and mouth burned; the drink tasted awful and the aftertaste would not go away no matter how many times he swallowed._

"Drink up, Little Dougie," _encouraged Vincent,_ "You gotta be brave for Freddy. The magic won't work unless you drink more."

"OK," _nodded Dougie, who then held his nose and began gulping down more of the concoction while Vincent just watched in silence; plotting._

 _By the time Dougie finished drinking the whole cup, his head was feeling really woozy and he struggled to think clearly and stand still. It was as if he was trying to pull his thoughts together with a rope in each hand to prevent them from wandering off in different directions._

"Vincent, what's wrong with me?" s _aid Dougie slowly, shaking his head and letting the Freddy plush and the cup fall from his hands._

"Everything's fine, Little Dougie," _reassured Vincent, taking two swigs from the hip flask and licking his lips from the taste of 100-proof Vodka,_ "That's just the magic working."

"I… I feel really funny. V-vincent… I-I-" _he trailed off, rubbing his head as the room started to spin._

"Sssshhhh..." q _uieted Vincent, moving closer to Dougie and getting on his knees,_ "Vincent's right here… I'll take over now. Just relax..."

"Mmmpphhh..." _went Dougie as he turned and stumbled forward, only to have Vincent curl his arms around him from behind._

"You're going to be fine, you're with me now," _cooed Vincent into Dougie's ear,_ "Oh, you have no idea what you do to me..."

"V-vincent, I… I feel so sleepy… so hot..." _the boy yawned, struggling to stay awake, but still very scared inside. It was just like his nightmares, but even worse this time._

"Come lie down on the table. You can sleep off the magic here," _said Vincent with a conspicuous lack of interest, lifting Dougie up and plunking him on the work table._

" _Mmmphh..." went Dougie as he shook his swimmy head once more, trying in vain to fend off the effects of intoxication._

 _Vincent grinned and kissed Dougie on his throat, making him gasp loudly when his mouth and stubble touched his skin. He'd never had a coloured one before, but that made Dougie much more exciting to him._

"P-please… I-I… wwwannnt yyyyouuu… to… to stop, Vincent… nnnff… please stop..." _slurred_ _Dougie,_ _weakly trying to push Vincent's head away but to no avail._

 _Dougie squirmed on the table, clearly wanting him to stop, but Vincent ignored him and suddenly crushed his lips against his, gripping the sides of his face, holding him still and then pushing him down until he lay flat on the table and succumbed to oblivion, pulled into the darkness of sleep._

 _ **KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!**_

 _A sudden series of sharp knocks on the door yanked Vincent out of his blissful highs._

"Fucking hell! What is it now?!" _he cursed angrily under his breath, whipping out his pocket knife and unfolding the blade._

 _He left Dougie asleep on the table and slowly stepped towards the door wielding the knife, ready to plunge it into the heart of the meddler._

"Who is it?" _he asked loudly._

"It's me, Vincent!" _responded a familiar Midwestern voice,_ "It's Barry!"

 _Vincent sighed in relief and shoved the knife in his pocket before unlocking and opening the door to see the fat figure of Barry Driscoll standing unassumingly outside._

"What do you want, Barry? I'm busy," _he said, annoyed at being interrupted._

 _Barry looked past his superior into the backstage room and raised an eyebrow in mild surprise,_ "Really, Vincent? You've moved into the backstage now?" _he deadpanned, indifferent to Dougie's predicament._

"Yes, really," _Vincent retorted with a glare,_ "Now tell me what you want or get the fuck out of here!"

"I came for what you owe me. I really need it now."

"Jesus Christ, Barry! Can't it wait til after I'm finished?"

"No. I've waited long enough. Give me what I want now."

"Fuck's sake! Come inside, and lock the door behind you!"

 _Barry did as Vincent said, ignoring the scene in front of him and focusing only on what his fellow security guard was fishing out of the duffel bag._

"Here!" _Vincent said sharply, thrusting a large Manila envelope into Barry's sweaty hands,_ "Just as I promised."

 _Barry's little eyes widened behind his glasses and he gave an excited, hushed chuckle,_ "Thanks Vincent! I know this is really going to be good."

"Have I ever disappointed you, Barry?" r _eplied Vincent with an evil smirk,_ "Sorry I took so long getting it this time from my contacts, but you know how it is these days… people like you and me have to be very careful."

"Uh-huh!" _nodded Barry, half-paying attention as he pulled out what was inside the envelope._

 _Photographs. Nearly two dozen of them. Evil images. Horrifying and disgusting to the vast majority, alluring and erotic to an exceedingly depraved minority._

"Satisfied?" _asked Vincent, folding his arms._

 _Barry chuckled and nodded excitedly, pushing the photos back into the envelope,_ "You bet! This is some good stuff right here! Thank you!"

"Don't sweat it. Now run along and get back to work," _Vincent ordered, but Barry stayed behind._

"That Dougie sure is cute," _observed Barry, eyeing the passed-out child on the table,_ "Can I just..." _he started, taking a step towards the table._

 _But Vincent quickly cut in front of him._

"Ah ah ah..." _he reproached, wagging his finger scoldingly at Barry,_ "You like little girls, remember?", _and then pointed at the envelope still in Barry's hands to remind him_.

"Oh, right," _remembered Barry softly chuckling,_ "Well, there's really nothing to worry about. Foxy's keeping everyone busy still. Have fun, Vincent."

 _With a nod, Barry departed with the envelope tucked under his fat arm, opening and then closing the door behind him, leaving Vincent alone with Dougie once more._

 _Vincent gave a low, dark chuckle,_ "What would I have ever done without you, Barry? What would you have ever done without me?"

 _He thought back to 1983 when he discovered the then twenty-four-year-old college dropout in the first Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, sitting at a corner table all by himself watching the kids play. But there was a familiar glint in his short-sighted eyes which let Vincent instinctively know right off the bat that he was just like him._

"You were young and stupid, barely able to control yourself around little girls… if it wasn't for me, you'd have been dead in jail years ago," _Vincent smirked maliciously, also remembering how he trained Barry to control his desires in public, got him a job with Fazbear Entertainment as a security guard like him, and got him to be his accomplice. All he had to do in return for Barry's total compliance was supply him every month with some "good material", as Barry put it._

"And don't worry, Barry," _continued Vincent to himself turning back to face Dougie who was still sleeping on the table,_ "If the police ever come sniffing again, I'll be sure to point them in your direction. Sorry, but someone's gotta take the fall. Heh heh!"

 _Vincent was about to start again when he suddenly heard the door open again and something heavy take a few steps inside._

 _Vincent rolled his eyes and turned around,_ "Barry, you idiot, what the hell do you want again? Get out and– oh shit!"

 _He saw the brown fur, the black top hat, the microphone and a hostile pair of eyes. It was Freddy Fazbear!_

 _The mechanical bear's big, bulky, seven-foot frame filled up the doorway, blocking any chance of escape, trapping Vincent with Dougie. His vivid blue eyes glowed menacingly at the purple man, his killer, narrowed with anger and malice at what he was doing. The same disgusting thing he did to his friend seven years ago._

"Ah, hello Keith," _said Vincent, trying to play it cool with the possessed animatronic,_ "You're looking well today. How're Daniel and Megan these days? Haven't seen Judith in a while. Did you have fun last night killing another guard you thought was me? You made quite the mess back here."

 _Freddy only grunted and glowered at the simpering security guard, taking another step into the room, wanting nothing more than to grab Vincent and cram his microphone down his throat and rescue the imperiled child from the man's clutches._

 _Vincent pouted mockingly at the ursine,_ "Awww… is poor little Keith in a bad mood today? Hmmm, I wonder why?" _he said, stroking Dougie's hair provokingly._

 _Freddy took another step, ready to pounce with a hellish shriek when Vincent, quick as lightning, withdrew his knife and pressed the sharp blade against Dougie's throat. Freddy stopped in his tracks and a look of fear came over his face, for in Vincent's hand was the same weapon that cruelly ended his life and that of his four other friends in 1986, and here it was prepared to end another._

 _Vincent's face contorted into an expression of cold hostility and he issued a frightening threat._

"Back… the _FUCK_ … off!" _he snarled harshly,_ "Make another move and swear I'll slice his throat open! Don't fuck with me, Keith!"

 _Freddy dared not to move another ratchet or wire of his endoskeletal insides, for he knew all too well that his killer would make good on his threat if pushed._

"You know Keith, it's your fault that you ended up this way," _Vincent said casually, moving his knife so that the point danced on the front of Dougie's shortalls,_ "If you and your stupid friends didn't keep getting in my way all the time with Timmy... if you didn't fuck things up and try to tell on me... you'd all still be alive today. I loved Timmy, and the five of you turned him against me. But you know something? Had you been good, maybe with time you, Charles and Daniel could've joined in our special relationship?"

 _Vincent giggled and then broke into a bout of laughter much to Freddy's disgust and anger, causing him to glare daggers at the man._

"Now get the hell out of here, you brown piece of shit!" _commanded Vincent, returning the blade to Dougie's jugular,_ "Little Dougie and I have a game to finish playing."

 _Defeated, Freddy turned to go outside, planning to rip Vincent apart the second he got the chance, but then Vincent suddenly called out to him once again._

"On second thought, Keith… stay and watch!" _he declared, the corners of his mouth curving into the beginning of a grotesque, sadistic smile._

 _Freddy turned back around, this time trembling with absolute fury, his eyes burning the brightest blue possible, his hand clutching his microphone harder and harder until it abruptly shattered into a hundred tiny plastic splinters._

 _Vincent only smirked._

"Temper, temper, Keith. Looks like I'm gonna have to bill you for that. Hahahaha!" _he taunted, laughing again before picking up where he left off, his knife blade never leaving Dougie's throat._

 _Freddy could only stand there lividly staring at the stomach-churning scene, wishing he could cry, wishing he could vomit, wishing he could charge and pull Vincent away from Dougie and stomp his skull into bloody mush with his foot. But he could do nothing as the purple man once again held all the cards._

 _He was completely powerless._

 _Just powerless._

* * *

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* * *

 **12:13 AM – The Back of Fazbear's Fright**

When it was all over and Douglas came back to the present, all he was was a shell of a man.

The shocking, unspeakable memory of what happened at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza on July 29, 1993 had only served to carpet bomb his psyche into a napalmed hell which he was now struggling to survive. It was like that scene from _Apocalypse Now_ , where the 1/9 Air Cavalry regiment annihilated a North Vietnamese-controlled village and left it a nightmarish inferno devoid of life.

The images of a sick, grinning Vincent DiCarlo kept flashing in his head, tormenting the shell-shocked security guard who only stood silently with a thousand-yard stare near the back door of Fazbear's Fright. Nothing could matter to the automaton now. Nothing since he felt his soul get sucked out of his body.

But then a new feeling began to awaken within him.

Anger.

Anger at Vincent for stealing his innocence and childhood.

Anger at Barry Driscoll for being another disgusting human being who helped his abuser.

Anger at Fazbear Entertainment and the police for repeatedly failing to catch Vincent.

Anger at himself for believing Vincent's lies and allowing him to molest him again and again, and keeping quiet about it.

Anger at losing his beloved friends.

Anger at Jason for forcing him to continue working at Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction.

Anger at having to deal with the monstrosity known as Springtrap.

Anger at the whole world.

Hot tears streamed down his face which was twisting into an expression that was a mixture of disgust, humiliation and fury at something so appalling happening to him again.

"You ruined my life, Vincent!" he sniveled through clenched teeth as he balled his fists so hard that his fingernails cut into his palm, "You motherfucking son of a bitch! Fuck you, Vincent! Fuck you, Springtrap! Whatever the hell you are now… fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! FUCK YOU!"

As Douglas walked closer towards the monolith that was Fazbear's Fright, he tried to force back his overwhelming impulse to run inside and beat and smash Springtrap into a million itty bitty pieces with his bare fists and feet, until nothing was left of that horrible grinning face and those gleaming silver eyes. But he knew that such a rash course of action would be extremely foolish at best.

He looked at the door to the building, afraid of the monster within that waited for him, not knowing what terrifying plan was festering inside its rotted brain for tonight nor even what its endgame was in the grand scheme of the waking nightmare that was the present.

Without another word, Douglas gave one last sigh and prepared himself for what was to come.

He opened the door and disappearing inside.

Night five was about to begin.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

 **I will say that there won't be any more graphical scenes like this again because I think that this is more than enough, and it's pretty clear to everyone by now what kind of monster Vincent is. So from here on stuff will be implied and perhaps spoken by some of the characters, and Douglas will remember more of Vincent's abuse as time goes by, but it won't be shown like here.**

 **That said, Douglas's next nights are going to get even more intense and scary, and we'll soon see some murder and gore pretty soon, so that will shift the focus back to the bloody horror we saw back when Springtrap brutally slaughtered Wayne the janitor, so you'll have that to look forward to, as well as more of Vincent's yandere tendencies and murderous impulses.**

 **Here's another shoutout to Antoine for him and his Springtrap horror story, "A Springtime Interview". I definitely recommend giving it a read for this Halloween.**

 **Until next time, have a scary Halloween folks!**


	24. Am I Supposed to be Afraid of You?

**I apologize for the very, very long delay this time around, but I've been dealing with some bad writer's block and a bit of depression. Personally, I think it might be the cold up here in Canada, but I always tried to push myself even though my motivation and inspiration levels are very low now.**

 **So now I've come back with a long chapter, my longest to date, but since this is Night Five, it gets very intense and there are a few major reveals contained within. I've also seen playthroughs of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator, and I must say I quite liked the pizzeria tycoon concept of the game, and thought it was a fitting conclusion to the series. More on that in the author's note.**

 **I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. It was quite an odyssey to get to the end. X3**

* * *

 **Am I Supposed to be Afraid of You?**

* * *

 **August 24 – 12:02 AM – Inside Fazbear's Fright – Hallway 4**

"Tonight, I will win for sure," swore the darkness, "Tonight I will take what is mine."

The darkness drifted through the long hallway that fluttered with creepy blue light from an arcade machine. The light gave the eerie shape definition, depth, presence, and unveiled its terrifying form with fleeting flashes of clarity.

A monster metamorphosed from an innocent childhood fantasy into a living nightmare of blood, bones and anguish.

A monster seasoned with boundless sin, stewed in pure evil and served with unbridled depravity.

A monster once known as Vincent William DiCarlo.

A monster reborn as Springtrap.

Hideous from the rotted remains of the springlock suit, Springtrap continued his walk, passing the long section of the wall with the three plastic pizzas. He snickered, knowing what lay behind the almost secret door in the janitor's closet.

After murdering the elderly janitor, he'd stashed the bloody body with its ripped-out throat inside the closet and then mopped up all the blood from his killing. Springtrap knew that by now the body was rotting and the telltale aroma of death was starting to escape from inside the small space.

"That was a good kill," remarked Springtrap, looking at his hands with Wayne Broadbent's dried blood and flexing his fingers, amazed at the strength the appendages carried. It had not been difficult at all pulling out the man's entire trachea.

"I will get rid of those others when they come back here again," Springtrap plotted, now entering Hallway 5 right where Bonnie's remains hung on the wall.

"Neil... Nina... Jason... and Peter! Oh, do I have plans for all of you..." he continued, practically spitting the last name out, angrily remembering the man's insults against him, but pleased with the knowledge of what he had in store for each of them.

Then his thoughts turned back to Douglas, and his expression hardened and grew impatient. The demented bunny could hear the office phone ringing, meaning it had to be after midnight, and yet no one was answering. Douglas was not at work tonight it seemed.

"He's not here!" growled an incensed Springtrap, balling a fist, "He said he would come back! Why isn't he here?"

The office phone continued on. The way the phone was set up meant that it wouldn't stop ringing until answered; the exact same way it was done for the night guards back at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

Springtrap narrowed his eyes into tiny red slits.

"So, you want to change the game, eh Little Dougie? You want to play outside?" he uttered with menacing softness. "Fine. But you can't hide from me, my little one. I have an eternity to find you."

With an evil snicker, Springtrap began to trek towards the exit, but was stopped by a very familiar voice behind him.

" _No you don't, Vincent."_

The once golden rabbit froze in his tracks and slowly turned to see the very tall, stick thin, alabaster-faced figure of Marionne the marionette standing directly in front of Bonnie's remains, the flickering dull light generating an aura around his willowy frame.

"Leave Douglas alone," the puppet spoke through his unmoving red lips as he raised an arm and pointed a twiggy finger at the homicidal animatronic.

Marionne's monotone voice, similar to HAL 9000's, filtered through the creepy corridor into Springtrap's sensitive ears which twitched upon hearing the gift-giver's message.

"Ahhh Adam... So nice to see you again," responded Springtrap sardonically, "I don't remember inviting you to this little soiree."

"Leave Douglas alone," restated Marionne, unphased by his enemy's terrifying appearance and blithe manner, "You've caused him so much pain already. Just let him go."

"Oh, it won't be like that for much longer," assured Springtrap, taking a step towards the puppet, "Little Dougie loves me, and I love him. I'm doing all of this just for him. I've waited so long."

"He's terrified of you, Vincent," rebuked Marionne, never breaking his emotionless way of speaking, "He hates you. He remembers what you did to him."

"I was helping him... I was showing him love," answered Springtrap with the confidence of a politician, "I helped you once long ago. Don't you remember? I showed you love, too... or have you forgotten as well, my _Darling Adam_?"

The puppet's skeletal body shivered noticeably when the toxic term of endearment pierced his ghostly ear drums with the subtlety of a loaded gun. He clenched his spidery hands into fists, but showed complete restraint. He'd had more than thirty years to master his self-control.

Springtrap blinked and then chuckled when he saw his magic bullet work, sadistically amused by Marionne's apparent, but understated, indignation and repulsion.

"What's the matter, _Darling Adam_?" crooned Springtrap tauntingly as he came closer, "Am I pushing your buttons? Am I getting under your skin? Or am I _turning you on_?"

"Do not call me that," responded Marionne with his monotone one pitch higher, "I am _not_ your _'Darling Adam'_. You _never_ loved me. You _lied_ to me, then you _used_ me, then you _hurt_ me _very_ badly, and then you _killed_ me."

The undead hare stopped and made an even sicker-looking smile.

"And you brought it all on yourself, boy," he condemned without one ounce of regret, "You enticed me. You wanted it in the first place… you told me how you had no friends and that I was the only one in your life who cared… and let's not forget, you came to me again and again for playtime at Fredbear's Family Diner."

"I was a child, Vincent," counteracted Marionne, "I was only nine-years-old."

"You were _my_ child, Darling Adam," asserted his grinning nemesis, "You were mine, you belonged to me, and you knew it."

"No, I did not belong to you," came the firm reply, "You hurt me. You hurt me so badly that day behind the diner… that I saw you for what you really are."

"Mmmmmmm..." hummed Springtrap lustfully from that particular memory, "And it was so good too, wasn't it?" Then his voice grew bitter, "But you betrayed me by trying to tell on me to that idiot Scott, and have me locked up."

"It's what you deserved," Marionne said.

"But I put a stop to that," added the rabbit, scowling at his opponent, "And now here we are… here we _all_ are more than thirty years later… all because of you."

"You will not succeed this time, Vincent," stated Marionne, bringing the subject back to Douglas Blackburn, "You are not going to hurt Douglas again."

"Ha! Who's going to stop me?" challenged Springtrap defiantly.

Marionne gave no answer, but his silence spoke volumes.

Springtrap stared at him in genuine surprise before bursting out with a cruel laugh. A crazy laugh. A terrible laugh.

"Am I supposed to be afraid of you?" sneered the killer contemptuously, his eyes taking on an unearthly purple glow.

The Marionette calmly gave his answer.

"No. Your destiny."

The bunny's dark smirk, plastered over his maw, parted with the jaws opening wider and wider, until they fully exposed the red, preserved skull of the man he once was.

"Oh my dear, sweet, _stupid_ child… _I_ am the master of my own destiny! You, Timmy and all the others have tried and failed to stop me!" Springtrap boasted pridefully, and he then pointed towards his immensely withered body, his host, and spoke again, still keeping the top half of his head completely retracted.

"You thought you were rid of me twenty years ago. How foolish. You only delayed me and made me even stronger! You think you can stop me, Adam? You can't!" rasped the robot ominously, "I will have what I want, I will do what I want, and there is nothing you can do about it! I _**always**_ come back!"

Springtrap allowed his jaws to snap shut before letting loose another sick, demented laugh. Marionne still appeared unphased, but inside, he feared for Douglas's life, wondering if the demon before him was actually right this time.

"Little Dougie will be with me forever," Springtrap vowed, "I will have him back as he was," and then he glared and pointed a scraggly finger threateningly at the puppet, "And if you or Timmy try anything… I will tear both of you apart with my bare hands, piece by _fucking_ piece!"

At that, the sudden noise of the heavy metal door opening in Hallway 8 cut through the tension like shears through a hedge.

The night guard was finally here.

Springtrap let out a wheezing sigh of relief and addressed his adversary. "Well Adam, I've enjoyed our little talk, but I have a game to play now, and you aren't part of it."

"Maybe we can't stop you, but Douglas will," Marionne said with resolve, to which Springtrap only laughed once more before turning his back on him and departing to torment his prey.

Marionne stood alone beside Bonnie's parts and quickly planned his next move.

"Tonight, Douglas will see that he was not the first. I have to show him..." he said to himself, casting a glance over at Bonnie's flashing eye socket, "He will see how all this madness started..."

* * *

 **12:15 AM – The Office**

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" grumbled Douglas irately, pursing his lips at the phone's

dull ringtone pounding his ear drums.

He rested his now melted watermelon Slurpee on the desk, stabbed the speaker button with his index finger, and hurriedly threw off his jacket while he listened to what Barry had to say this time.

" _Hello? Hello? Um, this is just a reminder of company policy concerning the safe room,"_ spoke Barry with gentle firmness.

"Do me a favour, Barry. Take your company policy, shove it up your ass and pull the fucking trigger, you lowlife shit stain!" spat Douglas lividly at the pedophile's voice as he sat down in the swivel chair and pressed the blue button on the right stand to make the camera monitor swing forward.

Barry continued his lecturing.

" _The safe room is reserved for equipment and/or other property not being currently used and is in fact a safety location for employees only,"_ he explained carefully as if talking to a roomful of kindergarteners.

Douglas only half-paid attention, racing against time, trying quickly to locate Springtrap, which was no easy task in the dimly lit labyrinthine structure.

"Where are you, you bastard? Show yourself," muttered Douglas, scanning the fizzling camera feeds.

" _This is not a break room,"_ continued Barry, sounding noticeably more stern with his words approaching a warning, _"_ _...and should not be considered a place for employees to hide and/or congregate_ _–_ _and under no circumstance should a customer_ ** _ever_** _be taken into this room and out of the main show area."_

Douglas looked up at that sentence.

"That's oddly specific..." he observed, rubbing his chin, "I remember on my third night you mentioned these safe rooms were not programmed into the animatronics or the security cameras. They were invisible to them… and didn't Neil say that he, Nina and Peter found Springtrap in the old location by the woods? The one my friends and I used to go to?"

" _Management has also been made aware that the Spring Bonnie animatronic has been noticeably moved,"_ continued Barry, the tidbit of information making Douglas gasp.

" _We would like to remind employees that this costume is not safe to wear under any circumstances. Thank you and remember to smile; you are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza,"_ concluded the recording, followed by the abrupt disconnecting click of the phone line, leaving Douglas with his mind buzzing from a brainstorm.

"Spring Bonnie… of course!" realized the multiracial man, "The articles I read in the folder stated that the police theorized that those murdered kids back in 1986 were more than likely lured into a back room by a man dressed in a costume that resembled one of the animatronics. This happened during a very large birthday party, if I'm not mistaken, and nobody would've really thought anything of some children following a costumed performer. They had no reason to suspect a thing."

Douglas carried on speculating.

"Keith, Daniel, Megan, Charles and Judith would've all been killed in the safe room since it was off-limits to customers, and the noise from the party would've stifled any screams and allowed the bodies to be moved and the crime scene cleaned with no one noticing," he deduced, his attention diverted from the monitors.

Then he looked at the phone, pondering the details and theorizing.

"I don't know when these tapes were made, but they had to have been recorded in either 1986 or 1993, after..." he continued, pausing when the uncomfortable thought of his slaughtered friends came to the forefront, but then pushing on, "… after my friends were killed. I'm willing to bet that Vincent used that same Spring Bonnie suit on both occasions because he was most familiar with that one. But why did he put it on again later? There weren't any more child murders at Freddy's after 1993, so how did he end up springlocked in that safe room?"

Douglas thought back to the first set of children and shuddered.

"If Vincent killed my friends out of anger and jealousy for coming between me and him… did he kill those five other kids for the same reason? Was he abusing other boys like me before?"

" _Hi! It's me,_ _Spring Bonnie, and I wanna_ _play a game!"_

The security guard glanced around nervously from hearing the corny, childish voice. It sounded so near yet he couldn't accurately pinpoint where it was coming from, and then Spring Bonnie spoke again. Only Douglas knew it wasn't Spring Bonnie any longer. He knew it was someone else— someone hiding in the old animatronic.

" _Let's be friends again, Little Dougie,"_ proposed Springtrap cheerily in his stolen voice, _"_ _Come out and play with me, please!"_

"Go fuck yourself!"cussed Douglas loudly through gritted teeth, then immediately clamping his hand over his mouth over the stupid move he'd made.

" _Awww…_ _that's not a very nice thing to say to your old friend, Little Dougie,"_ chastised the bunny mockingly with a giggle, _"_ _I'll give you a nice, big hug and it_ _'_ _ll be aaallllllll better! Hee hee hee!_ _"_

" _In your dreams, you son of a bitch!"_ denied Douglas mentally, giving a little fistpump when he finally located Springtrap on CAM 08.

Spring Bonnie's distinctive shape was just barely visible in the darkness of the hallway, a few paces further back from his usual position, trying to blend in with the shadows. Douglas was hesitant to admit that he'd nearly succeeded.

He sighed and steeled himself for the long night, feeling like he was going to drop down dead any moment – the result of a constant condition of fear and exhaustion brought about over the past few days.

 _ **BZZZZZZZZZT!**_

Static and then no more Springtrap.

"Damn! Where'd he go now?" muttered the man, scanning through the feeds again.

" _Listen to my voice, and you will find the key..."_

Douglas tensed at Phantom Foxy's bone-chilling voice echoing ominously in the vicinity.

"Those things are wasting no time at all, aren't they?" commented Douglas, looking at the different screens, glimpsing Phantom Balloon boy's blackened face and hurriedly changing views to avoid his jumpscare.

" _When you can see, how fast can you flee?"_

"Well, I'm not falling for any of you again," he determined, pressing the _'_ _play audio'_ button once, then twice on CAM 10.

No Springtrap.

" _Why isn't it working?"_ wondered Douglas, shifting over to the maintenance panel, ignoring the shuffling silhouette of Phantom Freddy in the window and flipping up the monitor. Both _'_ _audio devices'_ and _'_ _camera system'_ showed they were offline with two red **'** **error'** messages flashing beside them.

He quickly pressed _'_ _reboot all'_ and tapped his foot impatiently as he counted five seconds, then eight, then ten until all systems were up and running again.

"Great! Only two uses now!" grumbled the man, opening his other monitor again to search for the zombie bunny. No sign of him.

" _Be sure your step through the heart of madness..."_

"I'm being real sure, don't worry," replied Douglas, not daring to look to his left when he felt the phantom pirate's presence in the room and seeing only the tiniest sliver of his hook in his peripheral vision.

He landed on CAM 07 and spotted the withered animatronic.

Springtrap stood between two very worn down arcade machines in the far left corner in a very poor attempt to hide from the camera's view since he was a good head taller than the cabinets and his glistening marble eyes gave away his exact location.

"There you are..." mouthed Douglas, glancing at his watch. It was just after quarter to one. He had a long ways to go.

When he looked back at the screen, Springtrap had turned his silver eyes up at the camera as if looking directly at Douglas through the lens, and then gave him a lascivious wink.

Douglas's stomach tightened, and he suddenly broke out into the cold sweat of rising nausea. The small gesture told Douglas that Springtrap was thinking: _"I am in control. I am enjoying this little power struggle. But I am going to get you in the end."_

"No," rejected Douglas with a shake of his head. "I'm going to beat you, Springtrap. I'm not going to let you get me."

He reached into his pants pocket and withdrew his camera. He'd forgotten it was in there and did not get a chance to upload the photos from last night onto his laptop, but now it just meant he would have more proof that Springtrap was alive.

"There," said Douglas after snapping a picture and looking at it to see if it came out right. Sure enough, it did.

 _ **BZZZZZZZZT!**_

Gone again.

Douglas swallowed, and then swallowed again before he reached for the touchscreen, but he was halted by the sudden, scary appearance of something new.

It was a face. A pallid, horrible face that stretched itself over the arcade machine's monitor directly in the camera's line of sight. But it could be hardly called a face for it was a distorted, grunge vector-styled image that looked like it belonged on a Marilyn Manson album cover, and not on anyone or anything. It underscored the insanity of the twisted cat and mouse game Douglas and Springtrap were engaged in, and it made the man's blood freeze.

"What the -" started Douglas in mild shock, only to have the monitor slam shut by itself, and then without thinking he snapped his head to the left.

 _ **PSSCCCCHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!**_

Immediately he was met by terrifying mirage of burnt yellow screaming in his face with a bellows-like hiss. He saw the bib, the wide, open orange beak with blocky teeth and the tuft of charred feathers on its head, and recognized it as Chica the chicken.

Phantom Chica rushed at him with surprising speed with eyes ablaze and her face looming large in the dim lighting as if she was a starved animal that hadn't seen food in weeks. Douglas screamed as the office flashed with bright light and nearly jumped out of his chair as the avian was about to come tearing at his jugular, but she stopped just as she reached him, and vanished hauntingly with the light.

"Oh my God!" broadcasted Douglas to the empty room, "Now I have to deal with Phantom Chica too?! Can this night get any worse?!"

He darted his eyes towards the large window to check if Springtrap was there, but instead saw the distinctive shape of Phantom Freddy still shambling through the decrepit corridor.

"Uh-oh!" whimpered Douglas when Phantom Freddy ducked out of sight.

 _ **PSSCCCCHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!**_

The charbroiled ghost of Freddy Fazbear jumped up out of nowhere screaming with a cry like a tortured baby in Douglas's face. The guard yelled loudly again and blindly swung out with his hands as if to slap the apparition away, but they only passed through empty air.

"No no!" yelped Douglas before opening his eyes to see if he was alone again.

He was not.

" _Be sure your step through the heart of madness..."_

 _ **PSSCCCCHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!**_

"AAAACCKK!" Douglas hollered as Phantom Foxy, who'd teleported in his office again, lunged at him with his mouth stretched open so wide with venomous hostility that he appeared to dislocate his jaw. The assault sent Douglas careening out of the chair and his camera skittering across the floor.

"OWWWWW!" wailed Douglas when his right shoulder impacted hard onto the ground and pain raced through his nerves. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth from the agony before getting to his knees and scampering for the camera which lay next to the vent.

"Christ! Three jumpscares at once?! These things are trying to kill me! I'll never make it before dawn!" bemoened Douglas as he picked up the camera and checked for any damage.

 _ **BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!**_

The red light on the ceiling flashed its warning to signify that the ventilation system was offline.

Douglas frantically rushed to the maintenance panel to check it and saw that all systems were offline: _'audio devices'_ , _'camera system'_ and _'ventilation'_ all displayed an error message.

"Come on... hurry up!" beseeched Douglas when he tapped _'reboot all'_ and waited for the building systems to restart. Douglas knew that ten seconds was more than enough time for Springtrap to make significant strides towards him.

Finally, everything showed clear and Douglas closed the monitor. No sign of the corpse bunny outside.

"I gotta find Springtrap!" he realized, flipping open his other monitor and toggling through the map.

Nothing.

"The vents!" he then remembered, switching to the other set of cameras in the network of tunnels in Fazbear's Fright's walls, and spotting Springtrap on CAM 14, flat on his stomach, frozen in the act of crawling through the metal shaft.

"There you are," said Douglas to the animatronic with the savage grin and then snapping a photo of the screen.

Douglas glanced at the map on the screen and realized that CAM 14's vent contained a direct route to his office. He pressed the _'_ _seal vent'_ button and waited impatiently for the door to close shut, only exhaling in relief when the green line turned red.

"Phew! That was a close one!" breathed the brown-skinned man, reclining in his chair, his face flushed and sweating with a thin film of perspiration that glossed his face.

Wiping his forehead with the back of his palm, Douglas looked at his watch and groaned when he saw it was one o'clock on the dot.

"Shit!" he cursed under his breath, "Five more hours of this hell? God help me..."

" _Heh heh heh heh heh..."_

Douglas went rigid when he heard a soft and hideous laugh echoing through the vent. Springtrap! He knew it had to be coming from where CAM 15 was installed, right where there was another direct route to his office.

Springtrap spoke this time in his gravelly, intimidating voice instead of the saccharine, kiddie version. _"_ _Why must you run from me?_ _"_ he teased his target, " _Haven't you had enough?"_

Even though Douglas couldn't see any part of him, he could tell that Springtrap was relishing the situation with demonic glee.

" _I have had enough... but I can't stop,"_ thought Douglas brusquely, _"Not while you're still after me. Not while you're still alive."_

" _Don't you want this game to stop?"_ continued Springtrap, _"You can end it right now... all you have to do is give up and come with me."_

" _Come with you? Hell no!"_ refused Douglas alarmingly in his head, pressing the button to seal off the vent in Hallway 5.

Then came the Good Guy doll voice again.

" _No?"_ said Springtrap, clear, sweet and penetrating. _"_ _Then let's play! I am just getting started with you, Little Dougie!"_

Suddenly, Springtrap laughed, a high peal of laughter, bright as bells, and then it faded into the winding corridors. But it was no laughing matter to Douglas, now he could hardly move, there was a pain in his shoulder and a constriction inside his arm in the elbow. Worst of all was when his tormentor said his old pet name. And just hearing it made Douglas feel sick inside, the same way he'd felt in 1993 in the backstage with Vincent.

Douglas's face turned scarlet, and sweat trickled from his pores. " _What's going to happen to me?"_ he pondered inside the office's claustrophobic atmosphere, _"How long can I keep this up?"_

He trembled despairingly as he cycled through the cameras until he found the rabbit robot's withered arm sticking out beside the arcade machine with the blue screen.

"You can get through this, Douglas!" he told himself, his face hardening with determination."You can get through this."

He took a deep breath and prepared for what was ahead.

"I will get through this."

* * *

 **3:25 AM – Hallway 6**

"You're getting really good at this game, Little Dougie," remarked Springtrap, lightly chuckling as he wandered from silent room to silent room. "But the odds are in my favour."

Springtrap stopped his stride when he reached the corridor with Foxy's head and peeked around the corner. He looked up at the camera and blinked when he saw the tiny red light; Douglas had already spotted him it seemed.

" _Hello!"_ rang out Balloon Boy's voice through a hidden speaker.

The words **"FOLLOW THE VOICE"** blinked over and over again before Springtrap's eyes, and he felt the suit's programming activate and force him to walk to Hallway 2, but he grunted and fought against every step, straining his ratchets and servos to their limits and grinding the fragments of his human leg bones into dust.

Finally, with one loud, determined grunt, the infernal flashing text froze and then abruptly disintegrated pixel by pixel. His vision was clear and he felt in complete control of his body again.

"It's getting easier now, Little Dougie," Springtrap noted, pleased with his progress as he went back to Hallway 6. "Very soon I'll no longer be affected by this suit's programming, and then I'll finally be in complete control... just as I was during our special playtime."

Springtrap's ear and its mostly missing twin twitched keenly when he thought of the times he was alone with his Little Dougie. When forbidden thoughts gave rise to forbidden deeds. He reflected on the memories he'd played in his mind over and over again so many times whilst he was entombed in the safe room. They were what helped him endure twenty long years of solitary confinement in total blackness, and now they served to drive the former security guard to finish what he started.

"Hmmmm... playtime," rumbled Springtrap lecherously when he felt warm, intimate sensations – lust – kindling within him. The arousing fever radiated throughout the last vestiges of his human remains and saturated his robotic body with the throbbing of carnal desire. The crossbeams, the wiring, the rusty springlocks and the other metal components conducted the heat of his arousal emanating from the suit's pelvis area, right between his loins.

Little Dougie's human shape, his skin, his stomach, his back, his legs, his hair, his lips... the whole package had been too much for Vincent William DiCarlo to resist: a most enticing prospect, and one he simply had to have and to hold, to love and to cherish.

He knew he was a slave to his desires, but he didn't care. It felt too good.

Vincent loved it every time he buried his lips in the nape of the boy's neck, he smiled whenever his hands touched every part of the smooth, light brown skin, and the sublime vanilla smell of the six-year-old's soft hair only served to inflame his libido further. Vincent's only regret was that he didn't get to know Dougie in the biblical sense, as how Adam knew Eve his wife.

 _ **GRRRRRRR...**_

A low, disturbing growl broke Springtrap's sinful reverie, and he, quite annoyed by this, stomped into Hallway 6 and sighted the source of the noise.

He saw a hate-filled face with its mouth stretched wide and a double set of sharp teeth exposed aggressively at him. He saw its sooty red fur, the missing hook hand and burning eye as sharp as a razor, and instantly knew who it was.

"Well, shiver me timbers! It be Captain Foxy of the Pirate's Cove!" scoffed Springtrap.

Phantom Foxy stood dead center in the middle of the hall in direct opposition to the carcass-containing hare as if guarding the doorway behind him to prevent Springtrap from passing. He glared into the face of pure evil and growled more threateningly this time at the murderous machine.

"Ha ha, still getting in my way, eh?" asked Springtrap half-interestedly, "You never learn, do you... _Jamie_?"

At the mention of his old life's name, Phantom Foxy snarled at Springtrap, getting into a ready to pounce stance.

Springtrap only smirked. "Charles's old body suits you very well, I must say," he carried on off-handedly, making sure the spirit could hear the contempt in his tone. "I didn't think you were one to choose to remain behind, but then again, you are _nothing_ but a little prick."

Suddenly, darkness extruded from above into a twisted mass of mutilated metal endoskeletal parts, with a distinctive pink and white fox's head and three gleaming white pupils being the only remnant of its identity.

Phantom Mangle lowered itself from the ceiling so that it hung right next to Phantom Foxy and flared its mouth open all the way, with innumerable teeth dripping strings of gloopy oil like saliva, and it hissed an extremely garbled radio signal as a clear threat to the enemy.

"How sweet!" belittled Springtrap, directly addressing Phantom Mangle, his own eyes gleaming purple, "Here comes the cavalry! I see the puppet has given you the gift of life too, old man! How's it hanging, Wayne?"

 _ **PSSCCCCHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!**_

The former Toy Foxy gave its answer by swinging down from the ceiling quick as lighting, aiming its open jaws at Springtrap's head to bite it off, chew it up and spit it out. Phantom Foxy followed suit by leaping straight at him as if the old bunny entertainer was raw meat for predatory animals. However, both sailed right through Springtrap's body. They were just spirits. Intangibles.

Springtrap didn't flinch or even blink when the phantoms phased through him; it felt nothing more like a sudden wind chill. Time alone in the darkness of the sealed room had hardened him. Nothing scared him anymore.

"Pathetic," admonished Springtrap, his voice ice cold, "There is nothing you can do to me. You can't stop me from getting what's mine."

He turned and slitted his eyes in displeasure at the two phantoms, challenging his victims to speak, but both just growled with hate and rage at their murderer.

"I thought so," snorted Springtrap as he turned his back dismissively and walked towards the other doorway. But then he stopped and looked over his withered shoulder at Phantom Foxy with an expression that was almost approaching a leer.

"Anger makes you handsome, Jamie, did you know that?" he purred derisively.

 _ **GRRRRRRR…**_ came Phantom Foxy's disgusted response.

"Let's not lose our heads now, Jamie," teased Springtrap, cackling as he slithered away into the darkness, malevolently self-satisfied, making one last comment.

"Fascinating, what they have become..."

* * *

 **5:05 AM – The Office**

"Only one more hour to go… almost there!" agonized Douglas, tapping his foot anxiously while he sat on the edge of his seat.

The fifth night at Fazbear's Fright had been fraught with fearful tension as Douglas struggled to stay one step ahead of Springtrap, but the lapine was always dangerously close to outsmarting him, and the audio of Balloon Boy seemed to be working less and less. It didn't help matters that the system kept crashing with every two uses, stealing valuable time from him, and the mysterious Phantoms kept messing with his other systems as well.

With Springtrap spotted a safe distance away on CAM 08, Douglas reclined back in his chair and allowed himself a few moments to relax and breathe easily.

"I have to do something about Springtrap once and for all," he decided, the mere thought of confronting the demonic bunny redoubling his fear. "Even though I'll be gone after my week is up, he'll never stop coming after me... he'll kill everyone that gets in his way. I can't let that happen!"

He sighed and glanced at the old drawings taped on the office walls, the box full of the Toy animatronic shells, the new little bobble-headed figurines of Freddy, Bonnie and Chica on his desk, Freddy's mounted remains outside... same old, same old. Time inside the office always seemed to stand still.

As Douglas closed his eyes and massaged his temples, there came a low, pulsating noise. He opened his eyes again quickly. He was sure there was a sound that wasn't in the room a minute ago. It was not the office alarm, or Springtrap's footsteps, or the pattering of rain on the roof, or even a scraping of leaves outside. It was a throbbing... a swelling... a sound like a giant clock ticking away.

He put his hands to his ears, the sound repeated, still persisting and getting louder. It was the sound of his own heart thumping in his ears like a drum beaten under water.

"This place is really getting to me..." he acknowledged, shaking it off as a jet airplane made a low pass over the horror attraction.

Douglas sighed again, and as he did his heart nearly stopped when a cold metal hand grasped the back of his neck. The hand prickled all the hairs at the back of his neck and his eyes bulged in hysterical terror as the core of his mind froze over like ice.

" _No!"_ alarmed Douglas's mind, _"_ _Springtrap must've snuck into the office somehow!"_

Yet strangely, the hand didn't squeeze harder or try to yank him out of his chair, instead it just seemed to rest on his nape. Douglas craned his neck expecting to see the grinning face of the rotted Spring Bonnie behind him, but it was someone quite different.

It was a Bonnie for sure, but not the Spring Bonnie that hunted him for four nights.

This one was purple.

Bonnie stood seven feet tall from floor to ceiling, his wide purple body and distinctive red bow tie was covered with black soot as if he'd been set on fire and haphazardly extinguished. His toothed lower jaw hung dislocated to one side making him resemble a stroke victim, and the eyes in his sockets were not the warm, cherry red Douglas remembered from his childhood, they were the same luminous pearls as the other phantoms that gleamed frighteningly in the dull light.

Douglas gasped loud and slow at saw the enormous spectre behind him, and he saw that Phantom Bonnie was gently clutching his neck with his right hand. His entire left arm was missing from his shoulder with red and blue wiring poking through like severed veins and capillaries.

"AAAHHHH!" hollered Douglas when his dam of fright burst open, and right on cue, Phantom Bonnie flew straight into his face with the same intense scream as the others.

 _ **PSSCCCCHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!**_

Douglas instinctively jumped away out of his seat, landing flat on his backside and adding more pain on top of his aching shoulder. He cried out and fell onto his side just as the vision disappeared and the red light above started flashing and the alarm bleeped its warning tone.

"Great! Phantom Bonnie too?!" agonized Douglas as he stumbled to his feet and rubbed his sore bottom and stretched out his right arm and shoulder to ease the pain. "Ugh! Now I gotta watch my back on top of all this shit!"

Douglas quickly checked and discovered that his audio, camera and ventilation systems were offline. There was little doubt in his mind that Phantom Bonnie had somehow managed to disable all of them at once.

"There!" he said with relief after he'd finished rebooting everything, "This is all too much!"

" _I'll say..."_

Douglas tore his brown eyes in the direction of the office window when he heard the spine chilling voice, and gasped in horror upon seeing Springtrap standing outside.

"O-o-oh n-no!" quavered Douglas's voice from fright as he beheld the terror separated by the thick glass. He gripped his armrests tightly, paralyzed with fear, unsure whether to make a break for the exit, attempt to ward off the animatronic with Balloon Boy's voice, or maybe even try to talk to him.

Springtrap stared at Douglas in a way that brought scores of goose pimples racing all over his skin. By now his face was drained of colour and his eyes were wide, and despite his earlier fury and desire to confront and bash Springtrap into pieces, fear had overtaken all other emotions.

The mechanical zombie's expression was neither crude nor lustful. It was an expression which meant nothing less than: _you will very soon belong to me_.

"Hi!" he greeted in his hoarse, intimidating voice, placing a bloodstained, ragged hand on the pane, expecting a response.

"N-no... go away!" sputtered Douglas, "G-get away from me, Springtrap! I won't come with you!"

His frightened answer did nothing to even slightly deter Springtrap, who just blinked and then chuckled lightly.

"How adorable you are, Little Dougie," he complimented patronizingly, "You cannot resist me, boy. You can't."

"Fuck you!" Douglas exclaimed in a sudden burst of anger, flipping open his camera monitor and shifting to CAM 10.

 _"No need to get so upset, my child,"_ replied Springtrap just as Douglas noticed a blurry, greenish-yellow shape race past the window. Springtrap was on the move again!

The suspense drew its sharp knife slowly across Douglas's neck as he pressed _'play audio'_ and waited for the allurement to work its magic.

" _Hi!"_ sounded Balloon Boy's voice, striking an inconsonant melody to the tense atmosphere.

Nothing.

Douglas did not hear or see Springtrap moving towards Hallway 1 against his will, and he certainly did not appear in the feed. Douglas pushed the touchscreen again and hoped.

" _Ahahahaha!"_ tittered the animatronic child through the speakers.

Still nothing, except now the audio system promptly went offline.

"Oh my God! No no no!" panicked Douglas through clenched teeth.

" _Heh heh heh..."_ came Springtrap's creepy laughter from the left.

Douglas rapidly looked at the doorway to the office and went as white as a sheet when he saw Springtrap cloaked in shadow with his twisted face, eyes and teeth glistening in the sodium light, enjoying Douglas's terror.

Douglas tried to scream, but his voice sounded all dry and cracked, and barely anything tumbled out. Springtrap sidled back around the corner with a snicker, excited to be catching him again.

Douglas seized up and his breath came in deep, harsh gasps when he heard the playful, sugary voice of Spring Bonnie call out to him.

" _Hey, Little Dougie, I'm tired of all this running and hiding. Let's make up and be friends again."_

He sounded just like the nice Spring Bonnie from the _Fredbear & Friends_ cartoon. Sweet, gentle, and friendly.

" _What do you say, Little Dougie, huh?"_

" _No way!"_ raced Douglas's frenzied mind as he opened his maintenance panel and jabbed the _'reboot all'_ button, almost cracking the screen in desperation.

Outside, he heard Springtrap laughing in Spring Bonnie's clear, childish, tittering guffaw; taunting him. He trembled when the laughter began descending lower and lower, going deeper in strength and timber until it was the raspy, malevolent, demonic tone that belonged to Springtrap. There was only one meaning behind the cackling: _your time is up!_

"Come on, work this time!" begged Douglas frantically when the audio system came back online and he pressed the orange button to lower the screen. "Please don't – AAAAUUUGGGHHH!"

When the screen closed down, there was Springtrap!

Springtrap was peering into the room from the doorway looking ready to pounce, his expression maniacal as always, his silver eyes resting squarely on Douglas. Douglas tried to scream, but he couldn't even open his mouth.

He sat there, petrified and unable to move, his brown eyes locked with Springtrap's cold, glassy ones and feeling as if they were steadily drawing the warmth from his body. The thick, sickly odour of blood and death came crowding into Douglas's nostrils again and he stared terrifed at Springtrap's foul sneer, sensing the ill-intent swirling within, and feeling like he was going to be steamrolled by something horrific.

The two watched each other for what seemed like an eternity crammed into a few seconds, Springtrap remained unchanging in his posture and expression while Douglas stayed glued to his seat, afraid to breathe or blink lest he captured.

 _ **BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!**_

The office's alarm and red light commenced their audio and visual warnings, breaking the tense standoff, indicating the vent fans were not turning anymore. Douglas realized the other game Springtrap was playing.

" _He's waiting for all my systems to go off,"_ he comprehended, noticing the lapine's grin growing wider in the flashing light. _"When I have no more defenses… when I'm completely helpless.. then he will get me!"_

Douglas was scared to do anything, he knew that if he so much as looked away, Springtrap would bum rush into the office and either clock him on the head or strangle him until he was unconscious, but he was damned either way if he did nothing.

" _I have to try!"_ decided Douglas internally, turning to his camera monitor quick as lightning and opening it, not caring whichever hallway would come into view, only desperate to get the animatronic away from him.

" _Why fight me, Little Dougie?"_ said Springtrap over the alarm bleeps, accompanied by his footsteps clanking into the office. _"You and I were meant for each other. We are going to very close from now on."_

Douglas squeezed his eyes shut and hit the _'_ _play audio'_ button, bracing for the worst.

" _Hello!"_ chirruped the balloon giver's voice.

" _I've got you now! It's time to end this game of hide and se-hnnngg! Fucking-Aaarrrrggh!"_

The twenty-six-year-old heard Springtrap's footsteps stop at once and then heard him snarling angrily like a dog, like an animal. Douglas opened his eyes and gasped at Springtrap standing no more than a foot from his chair, one badly worn arm outstretched and reaching for him, but he remained where he was with his entire body convulsing; fighting with itself.

"It's working," whispered Douglas in amazement.

Springtrap glared at Douglas before growling and trying harder to reach for him, but Douglas had already pressed the audio button again. This time Balloon Boy's laugh was enough to make Springtrap turn around and clomp out of the office, his body twitching and trembling with resistance all the way.

Douglas saw Springtrap shoot him a very dirty look through the wide window, before he stormed off against his will, letting loose a string of colourful profanities once he disappeared from sight.

"Oh my God… oh my freaking God..." agonized Douglas, one hand to his forehead and the other pressed to the chest of his sweaty purple shirt, trying to calm down from the ordeal.

"Shit, he almost got me!" he continued, expecting Springtrap to come bolting right back into the office. "I gotta see where he is now!"

He checked through the different feeds, despite the flashing _'_ _audio error'_ message on the monitor's upper left corner, stopping when he located his attempted kidnapper on CAM 05.

Springtrap was staring directly into the camera, and he looked very angry. His normally silvery-white eyes burned with red smouldering light like two hot coals, and Douglas could see a balled fist at his side. He knew that if the camera could record sound Springtrap would be saying _"_ _You will_ _regret that, Little Dougie."_

"I have to get him further away from here," said Douglas as he pulled out his camera and snapped a photo of the screen and then another before going to reboot his audio system.

He checked his watch again and saw it was 5:30 in the morning.

"Good. Only half an hour to go and then I can get the fuck out of here. I'm almost home free," he informed himself as he reopened his camera monitor and shifted over to CAM 08 in Hallway 2. "I can survive thirty more minutes here. Just gotta – wait, what?"

He paused, surprised at the strange, lanky form of Marionne the marionette standing in the hallway. The distinctive shape, the black and white colouration, and the porcelain white mask with its red lips, matching cheeks and purple stripes were unmistakable to Douglas.

"I-I saw you on my first night here," remembered Douglas, looking back and forth between the puppet in the room and the shiny mask hung up in the corner close to the camera. "Am I seeing things again? It doesn't look like the other phantoms that have been scaring me..."

He shivered. The office suddenly felt unnaturally cold.

Douglas hugged himself for warmth and he saw a tiny cloud of condensation escape from his mouth as he exhaled, all the heat was draining out of the room.

"What – what's going on?" he wondered aloud as anxiety welled up inside him.

Then as if to give an answer, his monitor abruptly swung shut by itself, and immediately after, a high-pitched, grating buzz like a bad dial-up connection or broken fax machine began pealing throughout the room.

Douglas jumped and clamped his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block out the sound. All the lights in the vicinity started dimming on and off, and Douglas felt the surge of a strange power moving through the room. He could actually feel the air in the office warping; like ripple of heat rising from a hot tarmac. It terrified him.

"What the hell?!" he cried out, when the sound's source edged its way into his line of sight.

It was Marionne the marionette, all tarnished with soot and staring with creepy, glowing pearly eyes right into his, just like in the dream before his fourth night at the horror attraction.

Douglas wanted to run. But his legs wouldn't move. His whole body felt paralyzed, like it was being gripped by the same force that held him on the stage at Freddy's when he was six. When the animatronics cried and vomited blood and mucous, and gave him their ominous warnings

Douglas tried moving his head side to side, doing anything he could to avoid the apparition's cold, pallid stare, but Marionne simply followed him, continually blocking his vision to maintain eye contact whilst the strange garbled noise continued blaring.

The invisible force restraining Douglas suddenly latched onto his head and kept it in place, making him continuously lock gazes with Marionne. He couldn't even close his eyes anymore.

"I need to show you..." whispered the faintest of echoes from Marionne's mouth.

"Sh-show me?" grunted a puzzled Douglas, still struggling against the imperceptible hand that detained him.

"Where it all began..." revealed Marionne placidly as the glow from his eyes began intensifying in brightness, just as it did in Douglas's dream the night before.

"F-f-fredbear's... Family… Diner..." finished Douglas, mesmerized by the lights in the puppet's eye sockets, feeling like he was staring into an optometrist's tonometer.

"You need to know, Douglas..." informed Marionne as a familiar pressure started pressing hard against Douglas's forehead, trying to reach into his head.

"Know…" Douglas groaned, completely under the puppet's spell, allowing his mind to give in to the force when he realized the gift giver meant no harm and needed to show him something important. He had a gut feeling of what was coming as the office dissolved around him and the white lights of Marionne's eyes completely engulfed his vision.

"That you were not the first…."

* * *

 **Author's Note**

 **Boy, that was a very close one for Douglas! Springtrap was so close from getting him, but I wonder how long will his luck last?**

 **It looks like Phantom Foxy is actually the spirit of Jamie Morcombe, one of Douglas's childhood friends; I actually foreshadowed this all the way back in chapter 8 where Springtrap addresses the head shell of Foxy. And it also seems that the puppet gave Wayne the janitor the gift of life by making him become Phantom Mangle, perhaps so he could have a chance at seeing his killer get some form of comeuppance. Maybe there's more to the other phantoms as well?**

 **Speaking of phantoms, I simply had to include a Phantom Bonnie. I didn't like how FNAF 3 excluded him, so I added him to the story to make it more interesting since he would appear right behind Douglas and touch his neck to try to jumpscare him. The fan made jumpscare I modeled the in-story one off of is the one made by "epicsurfingvids" on YouTube.**

 **I also found someone who looks just like how I envisioned Barry Driscoll. Just look up "Boogie2988" (real name: Steven Jay Williams) on Google Images, and that's how Barry looks except with thinner hair.**

 **And concerning the latest FNAF game, as I said, I did quite like it a lot and thought it tied up most of the loose ends of the lore but left a few unanswered questions. It would be nice if more things could be explained or clarified by Scott in the near future, but knowing him, I don't think that will really happen. And given the nature of things, I won't be able to fit it into this story in the way I did the first four games, but I will work some if not most of Scraptrap's dialogue into the story as how I did with two of his lines in this chapter because it is rather fitting.**

 **The next chapter will show where the curse, the evil, of the Fazbear franchise all began, and I will say from now there's gonna be a good bit of gore, so be forewarned.**

 **Until next time, cheers!**


End file.
